


Transparency In War

by Animangamisfit, Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Conflict of Interests, Crash Landing, Dark Past, Defensiveness, Emotional Baggage, Emotionally Repressed, Exploration, Fear, Fictional Religion & Theology, First Meetings, Getting to Know Each Other, Interrogation, Loneliness, Mid-Canon, Multi, Negotiations, Paranoia, Power Play, Pre-Earth Transformers, Self-Esteem Issues, Social Anxiety, Storms, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animangamisfit/pseuds/Animangamisfit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autobot scientist Baseline has finally run out of options. With her lab destroyed and hardly any combat training, she's reluctantly decided to offer her services to Team Prime, if only she can reach them. To do so, she must employ paranoid Minibot pilot Typhoon, whose reaction to her is less than savory...for good reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Faithful readers, my coauthor and I are requesting critique. Please comment what you think of our OCs and the storyline; we'd really appreciate the feedback!
> 
> Those of you who follow my work will know what NET is, but to you newcomers: NET stands for "Neural Exploration Trial", a program where Bots are part of scientific experiments which dampen their emotions to make them "more objective", but it just makes it hard for them to understand abstract ideas like "fun" or "joy" or "hate". Some of these Bots develop anxiety problems, obsessiveness, perfectionism, etc.

Baseline was wary, walking slowly towards the meeting spot. This other Autobot was supposed to be able to get her to Earth. Glancing from side to side, Baseline gauged her escape routes. It never hurt to be cautious, she reminded herself. The crowded spaceport bustled with life and made it all that harder to avoid being bumped and jostled.

On the other side of the port, Typhoon couldn't keep still, pacing up and down the ramp leading into his ship, the _Pursuit_. Someone had contacted the supposedly secure Autobot comm. channel and requested that a Bot on their way to Earth pick up a femme here. He'd felt obligated, being the closest, but what if this was a trick somehow?

After meandering through the crowd, Baseline approached the rail, relaxing a bit seeing this new Bot was nervous. She tapped the handrail that led to his ship to get his attention. "You are on your way to Earth?" Baseline asked, not looking at him.

He startled, spun around and scanned the larger frame femme, wondering why she was being so blunt about it—unless she wasn't and actually had just attempted to use coded speech of some sort with him. It had been too much to hope for another Minibot, but he wasn't surprised. "And if I am?" he managed, shifting so his Autobot sigil would be less obvious. "Are you planning a trip there?"

"I am." Baseline nodded, walking up the rail till they were eye-level. This action, she thought, would be the most respectful, given her position. Uncovering her sigil to show to him, the amber-colored Bot continued, "And I am no pilot, so I am in need of transportation." She spoke while offering her hand to seal the deal.

To an extent, Typhoon appreciated the femme putting them at optic height, but was that respect or challenge? He studied her hand uncertainly, considering his mental list of topical toxins undercover Decepticons or NET agents could use. Rebooting his vocalizer, he nodded and patted her forearm in lieu of a handshake. "Ah, welcome aboard the _Pursuit_ , then. Function?"

"I serve the function of a scientist. And yourself, are you a mercenary or Decepticon?" she inquired with a tilt of her head. It was an all-or-nothing situation, being here and seeking passage, so there was really no reason to hide who she was.

Her words caught him off guard and for a long minute he simply stared, glad that his visor was hiding how wide his optics were. His spark was starting to race. A scientist, on board with him? With no one to stop her if she tried to finish what the others had started…But she was an Autobot. A lot had changed, right? And she wouldn't harm him while he was her designated driver, hopefully. "I—don't exactly know what I am now, other than an Autobot," he confessed in a rush, facing her more fully and gesturing to the symbol on his left shoulder.

"I see. I too find it hard to identify myself during this the war other than as a part of a faction, but I should not deny the inclinations that I have to science and research." She paused and looked at him more intently. "You might be coming down with a virus or your circuits are simply slow, considering your response time. At least it means you are no plant. That’s good," she stated, unable to figure out whether illness or slower processing speed affected him, at least not without more data.

The smaller Bot elected to ignore the comment she had made about his reaction time and made a jerky gesture for her to follow him. "This is my ship," he stated unnecessarily, sweeping the area for any private information at risk now that there was someone else aboard. All files were hidden, of course, so he continued, "Do you have anything to bring with you? I'll need to scan it—or preferably open it and make sure there's nothing…unexpected. By either of us." Pressing a hand to his forehead, he cursed softly. "Oh! Name! What's your name?"

"I have nothing but this case of the equipment and small aid kit I salvaged in the wreck of my lab. Nothing sensitive is in there; you may look." Baseline handed him the case. "Although, I do carry sharp medical instruments. Will you need to inspect those? As for my name, I am Baseline." She did not inquire after the other’s name. If he felt the need to give his, it would be his business.

"What happened to your lab?" he asked impulsively as he shuffled through the belongings, wondering if he should be glad that her work had been halted. "And yes, the instruments are inspection-worthy! There's almost nothing more worthy in a war." On that awkward note, he added, "I'm T-Typhoon—obviously from Culumex."

"Obviously." She nodded, having already noted that fact in her memory. She began unpacking her things for Typhoon before speaking again. "My lab was destroyed in the war. The Decepticons would rather destroy my research than have it fall into the hands of more influential Autobots than myself." There was an edge of bitterness in her normally monotone voice.

Typhoon absorbed this information, but he wasn't interested in sorting it out, much more taken with her potential weapons. His people had always appreciated good craft and this was no exception. "This looks nice," he understated his admiration as he leaned over them. "Very nice." With that he backed away, setting her tool kit on the floor and moving toward the controls. "Earth, then. I'll try to make it a short trip."

"That would be preferable." Baseline put away the weapons and followed him. She attempted to make conversation. "And you? What was your function before the war?" Conversation wasn't her best form of communication. Writing was much better for getting her thoughts out.

"I was a locksmith," he said shortly, glancing at her to see if she was scornful of that. "Key pads, bolts…either, really." _So if you try to put me in another science center, I'll find a way out,_ he added silently. "But of course Decepticons can reach a Bot anywhere, so many just stopped trying to feel secure. I wasn't one of them." Typhoon signaled the ship's open entrance bay doors to slide shut and lock.

Baseline’s optics were wide with surprise and interest. "At some point on our journey, I would be honored to learn how to pick basic locks and keypads." She stared at him, optics slightly wider, eager to learn. "It would be quite useful if something were to happen later.”

Typhoon was rather surprised by this response. The scientists he'd met almost never showed any interest in who he was, aside from whether or not the coding they'd forced on him had remained intact. "Well, perhaps after we've actually gotten out of the port," he tried to joke, but it sounded too hesitant. If he had the capacity for normal anger, he was sure he'd be feeling it. Anxiously he fingered the controls to prime for launch, muttering, "You can sit, if you'd like." There was a copilot seat, after all, and he wasn't sure he wanted her wandering around.

Baseline nodded cordially and took his offer to sit down. "I understand your hesitance. You still think I might not be who I say I am." She scanned her memory banks, trying to find something that might make her trust him. It was imperative she learn some of the information and skill he possessed.

"Decepticons are—they're _exquisite_ deceivers," he stated, sounding slightly accusing but not really trying to be. "And even Neutrals can be disloyal, as I learned even before the war. And Autobots can be flipped. There can never be too much caution. The mech who sent you to me can verify your identity, but if he was smart he changed his internal comm. system code as soon as he hung up with me." Drawing in his vents, Typhoon considered what he could ask that was just personal enough to make him believe her. "Wh-What sort of scientific…" He refused to finish that and revised, "…alternate mode are you? Where were you in the caste system?"

"I assume you're asking what I did for research, as well as what alt. mode I had." Baseline hummed in thought. "I transform into a mass spectrometer. It sorts various substances into their most basic elements. For example my main work was on energon; I was trying to create a synthetic kind with the same chemical composition and none of the side effects. Until, of course, everything was destroyed and I ended up on the run for joining the cause. I suppose it sounds self-centered, joining the Autobots because my work was destroyed," she mused.

"I've known of Bots who've joined for more," he agreed before realizing how that might sound. "And less. But some believe motives don't matter, as long as you're on the right side." As the engines charged, he pursed his lips in tense concentration, steering incrementally and hoping she might learn visually. It wouldn't be a kind fate to get to Earth safely and then, if a ship-involved mission came on them, crash to their fiery doom because of an inexperienced pilot. _Oh, Primus,_ he recalled abruptly. _We're going to be working together as teammates!_

Baseline nodded, watching his movements. "That is not logical, considering some may not agree with the Decepticons but join because they are loyal to a comrade or companion. I have neither, so fear nothing from me," she responded as flatly as she had all the rest of her statements. "Though I believe, to understand and learn, we have to preserve and help."

"Well, maybe you'll find a comrade or companion among Optimus Prime's team," he said mildly, suppressing a shiver. It didn't matter to him whether the Decepticons were evil or simply loyal to each other; he was afraid of all of them. He hated that, simply because his kind was known for their courage and strength. While he had the latter, the former was much harder to find. If he'd found a pace before NET had found him, things might have been different. In any case, he and Baseline were alike in that they were alone. _Is that why she's joining this team or is it just logical to her personal cause?_ Typhoon wondered.

Baseline nodded. "That is inevitable, I suppose. Are you sure you're not coming down with a virus? You shivered," she pointed out.  "I am concerned that it might impair your judgement and ability to pilot this…impressive craft." She puzzled over the word. Impressive was a bit of an exaggeration, and she liked to be precise.

Plating flaring slightly, he burst out, "I'll have you know this _is_ an impressive craft! It's biometrically linked to my processor and if anyone threatens me, I can send a command prompt for self-destruction." It was a great idea, one he had been trying to make true for a while, but he hadn't succeeded yet. He was speaking out of his insecurity more than his pride, but no larger frame, not even a femme, could insult a Mini's ship! "And as for contracting malware, I've had it before. It's nothing serious."

"I apologize for upsetting you. I am simply anxious," she stated, features still as emotionless as before. "If you do have malware, I might be able to help. My kit has some basic extraction tools. Then again, if I had been part of the NET program, I would not want a scientist poking around in my software." All things considered the evidence pointed to his involvement in such a vile bastardization of scientific reform. "I apologize for your pain and loss. Science is a tool of understanding and not what they did to you." For a brief moment her stoic features softened.

Jamming the autopilot on, he turned and leapt to his feet, putting distance between them. "Ha, _you're_ anxious?!" he repeated, his vocals squeaking. "I'm not letting you and your t-tools anywhere near me; if I had known you were a scientist I never would have been here! I would've been as far as possible because your kind is the most terrif—" He snapped his mouth shut, visor dimming. He had of course just proved her point, but he was focusing on keeping his hands from shaking. He hid them behind his back.

Baseline shrugged. "I understand, but there is not much we can do now. We’re already on our way—unless you wish to draw suspicion to us, which I would advise is not the best option." Baseline moved away from him. "Again I apologize. If my word is worth anything, I promise I will not harm you. I promise on the Primes and my own life."

Typhoon paused, considering how he could refute a promise made by the Primes. "The only fate worse than dying by a scientist is dying by a Decepticon scientist. Shockwave would probably find it 'logical' to dissect me," he whispered. "Just…keep your distance." He scooted around the side of the pilot chair furthest from her and then sat, watching as the autopilot took them toward the port exit.

"He probably would." Baseline agreed. "I will keep my distance on our trip but it would be better for us if we accompanied one another. Deceptions are out here too and we have strength in greater numbers.”

"Greater numbers my sine function! There's two of us," Typhoon pointed out as they lifted off and drifted into open space. "And would you even trust me to defend you? You don't even know what weapons I own!"

"I trust out of necessity, not choice. Besides, while I am not a competent fighter, maybe it will be I defending you!" There was a twinkle in her optics.

"It's not too late to take you back," he warned, but it held no weight as he switched on the hyper drive. "I estimate our trip will take three or four diuns—if we survive it."

"I hope for our sakes we do," Baseline sighed. "I hope you don't mind, but I did bring a gift. I find others find my mannerisms are…peculiar?" She tilted her head. "There are other words, I’m sure." She handed him some energon goodies wrapped in a moldable metal.

He eyed them for a good series of kliks, mouth twisted distrustfully, but finally accepted and put them on the corner of the console where they would be out of the way but easily accessible. "I'm sure there are other words as well," he agreed, "but since I'm the host for some diuns, it wouldn't be polite to use them." He knew he was blaming her for something she may not have done, but that "may" was all that mattered. How could he be sure? "Would you like to see the sights?" he prompted.

"No. I prefer it if we were in space as much as possible. Less of a chance we end up prisoners or worse if we keep moving." Baseline’s grip tightened slightly thinking about what might happen. "Though I would ask, how will we pass the time? I won’t be pulling out my tools except to clean, so as to not put you on edge," the femme clarified.

"I simply meant tour the ship," Typhoon clarified. "See the sights on board. That's how I've been passing my time: cleaning or upgrading areas of the ship that need it, watching whatever holochannels I can access from planets I pass…However I'll thank you for not intending to spend the time doing…other things." He didn't want to seem ungrateful, but his systems were refusing to unwind, just in case she wasn't as considerate as she seemed.

"Oh. In that case, I would be happy to accompany you," she agreed. "And if you wish, I will help with simple repairs, although I am not practiced with space crafts. Also, I apologize if I do not appear grateful for your hospitality." Baseline had often been told to be more polite, but this wasn't a moment of generosity. Viewing life more as a system of give-and-take, she would offer as much as she could in return.

"Don't strain your abilities just to say thanks," Typhoon told her, forcing himself to turn his back to her but stretching his EM field out so he could sense her general location. It would be easier to use his augmentation for this, but he didn't want to harm her. She was a fellow Autobot! Blocking her view with his back, he keyed in a code to open the hallway door. In the center, it became a three-way split. "Berthrooms," he claimed, pointing to their left. To the right, "Everything else: lounge, computer room, weapons locker, repair bay, siege bay, washrooms. It's a small ship, but—" He yelped, cutting himself off as he felt the ship jerk.

When the ship lurched, Baseline tried to hold herself steady. "What was that?" she asked, concerned and turning to see out a window.

"I don't know," he burst out over the wailing alarms, sprinting back toward the control room and wincing at all of the flashing lights. "It's a—slag," he cursed as the star trackers fuzzed over with static, feeling the panic swell in him. "—solar radiation storm from the nearest planet!" Who knew if the radiation was dangerous to Cybertronians?

Baseline followed, hurrying from her usual lackadaisical pace. "What is it doing?" she asked, sitting in the copilot seat. Ever the scientist, she knew what kind of radiation she might be able to find out if they could nullify it or at least find out what kind of damage it might due to them or the ship.

"It's knocking out the major systems," he fretted, one hand hovering over the star trackers and the other mashing buttons for the imagery data. "I can't even see the stars, much less the planet! There's too much interference! It's some kind of rust-laced radiation, I think." He hesitated for a nanoklik before demanding, "Have you seen anything like this? Do you think it's harmful?" She had said her expertise was in energon, but he could hope her study had extended to the rest of a Bot's systems.

"It could be harmful," she answered quickly and skidded to her tool kit. "I will need access to your ship’s core. I may be able to provide it a scrubber so that the main functions keep intact!" She was a little frantic as she rummaged through her tools and the parts she needed. "If this works we can repair the rest on the way at our leisure."

Typhoon was torn between staying at the helm or going with her to key in all of the door codes. If he stayed, he would need to give her the codes, and if he went, they may very well get thrown into the gravity of the planet. Now the neural link between him and the ship would have been nice. "The doors are 3192978," he called, clenching his teeth and increasing magnification in his optics as he squinted out the fore window.

Baseline raced through the doors after inputting the code. She had to hurry; the radiation could corrode the circuitry before she'd finished installing the scrubber.

It was a good five minutes before Baseline returned to the copilot seat. "Is everything stable? I did my best but I’m not sure if I made it in time!"

"If it were st-stable," he stammered as the ship rattled, "I'd have gotten us away from this! We may have to land on the—" Before he could finish, the nose if the ship began tipping and he threw himself back in his chair, scrambling for the belt. "Even if we don't like it, we don't have a choice."

"Understood!" Baseline fumbled with her belt. This was a disaster. They weren't that far into their expedition and already they could be plunging to their deaths. She’d have to rely on his piloting skills if she was to survive this fall.

"Easy does it," he whispered, swallowing the urge to take cover in the siege bay. If he left her here to pilot the craft, it wouldn't matter where he was. Although…

"You don't have to be up here," he announced, though he couldn't help but fleetingly hope for reassurance. "You can take cover, if you run fast enough. Too bad you don't transform into a vehicle." Forcing a frenzied laugh as he watched the hull temperature climb on his gauges, he added, "Too bad I don't either!" He couldn't say anything else as his internals threatened collapse beneath the atmospheric pressure. _This is going to be a short trip, I think._

Baseline grabbed the edges of her seat. "I am not interested in going anywhere," she gasped, her vents constricting and the pressure making her head hurt. "Not unless you are coming with me."

The crash was brief, just as Typhoon had suspected it would be. He managed to take it down onto a relatively smooth surface, but whatever it was had a steep decline, so they continued sliding until the ship struck something unseen, spun at a 180-degree angle and then slammed into a much larger barrier before sinking and settling.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he carefully pried his optics open and waved away the acrid smoke from the console. "Hardly lifted off and then this happens," he lamented, blinking as energon slid under his visor and blinded his left optic. "Where are we?!" he demanded of no one in particular.

Baseline had been hit rather hard from the crash. Her larger mass made meant a larger force of impact, which rendered her systems vulnerable and initiated a short shutdown. Rebooting took a bit but when it was finished, her audio receptors caught the last sentence, “Where are we?” That was a good question.

"No idea," she answered, along with a groan from her joints.

"Are you okay?" he asked, swiveling his chair around. "You can repair yourself, right?" Tearing off the belt, he stood and stretched, glad that his thicker frame had prevented much damage. Seizing her tool kit, he thrust it at her and bounded for the bay doors, groaning when he found the key pad had been damaged. "I can force it open, I think," he murmured, balling his fists and praying that how he struck the doors wouldn't bring anything else on top of him.

Baseline’s vents exhaled as she took the kit. "I can repair myself. Are you in need of repairs?" she asked working on herself immediately.  Watching him closely, she tried to perceive any damage that was in need of immediate fixing.

"No, no, no, I'm fine," he said quickly, swiping at the energon and wiping it nervously on his lower frame. He had always hated seeing any wound or its side effects and if he hadn't been in the presence of a scientist, he would have been panicking. It was threatening to happen anyway, but he had to compartmentalize it. There were other worse things to worry about. Glancing at the ceiling and then at the doors, he briefly leaned an audial against them to listen for any movement outside. At the moment it seemed no one had noticed the landing. Did anyone even live here?

Baseline walked towards him. "If you wish to tend to yourself, I understand. My tools are at your disposal," she said, looking at the door as if it were a puzzle. "May I?" Gesturing at the door, Baseline asked her question.

"I suppose," he sighed in answer to both her suggestion and her question, stepping aside but watching her movements. He was interested in seeing what she would do, mostly because he was afraid it may do more damage than good, but perhaps she was right to try. In the meantime he gingerly rifled through her tools, avoiding the familiar ones in favor of a shammy. Pressing it against his forehead, he snatched an energon goodie from the rest and munched it while her back was turned. He wanted to regret it, but it tasted fine. "What are you doing?"

Baseline realized it would be considered odd to be staring at the door as long as she had. "I am calculating the mass of the door, my own force, and the apparent gravity of this planet to see how much torque should be applied," she stated. As she pulled open the door, her joints creaked from the stress already put on her from the crash. "Almost got it," she grunted as the door inched open.

Typhoon couldn't help but think of assisting her; his people were known for their strength and here he was watching and eating. Scurrying toward the other door, he braced himself and slammed it open, stepping back to view the outside from a safe distance. It was very…organic, he noted with unease. Likely a forest planet, in fact, as there was no technology that he could see from here among the trees. Hastily he returned to the console and worked to bring up the last recorded stars. "Tricurse it, I think we're on Akalo," he announced anxiously.

"Akalo? Anything that is immediate danger?" she asked, surveying the outside. "There is no need for worry. Base elements are somewhat similar; I can find what we need to restore the ship—minus energy, obviously." she shrugged. "I suppose you have a different worry in mind?"

"Akalo, also known as Archa Nine. It's the ninth planet in this system and according to something I heard from the pace-mate of a friend, the people here have an energy source called the 'Divine Light'," he recited, shifting his weight and snatching up another energon stick to calm himself. "But don't get your hopes up about using it! The Akalouthans worship it and I think he said they have some kind of prophesy about chosen protectors…a team who will keep it from demons or something."

"Mmm, well, we need it, do we not? I feel it is unfortunate to disturb another civilization, but we need energy to continue our journey to Earth, where the rest of the Autobots need us. That makes our goals more important, as it involves the fate of much of the universe. The Decepticons have not stopped at just Cybertron," Baseline sighed.

"But we're—true, but they may think we're the heralds of the demons or some scrap like that," he pleaded. "Or they might think we're the Decepticons! Listen, I don't want to go out. I just want to repair the ship and leave! I'm sure that somewhere I have a spare stock of energon cubes to use for fuel." "Spare" wasn't the right word and he knew it; the only stock he had was the fuel they needed to energize themselves. Even so, he was stereotypical Culumexian in that superstitious things were not to be touched. _Of course scientists and medics and engineers, the whole lot of them just have to touch the thing!_

"Are you positive?" She stared out into the forest. "I am not adept at conversation but I am not opposed to taking what need be, while leaving something else for the sake of a bigger picture," Baseline commented. "If it is unnecessary, then it need not be done."

Typhoon fidgeted. He hadn't expected her to actually accept his lie and try to take it further. "Well…spare fuel for us," he admitted. "I just…don't want to intrude on them. It might scare them and I don't want that, but maybe they can offer something else we can use." So saying, he crept back toward the entrance, ex-venting shortly and instructing, "Watch yourself," before stretching out a hand into the foreign air, splitting it with waves of pressure and sweeping laser points his fingers were emitting. Tuning his audials to his augmentation, he could sense movement a few miles away, but whether it was a creature or an Akalouthan he didn't know. "Something saw us fall," he stated surely, "but Primus knows what."

"Then continue fixing the ship. I will scout the perimeter and be as unimposing as I can." Baseline walked outside, leaving her companion to the outlying wilderness. Their crash had decimated a portion of the forest rubble lined the crater and the rocks were still searing from the impact of the crash. Quickly she made it out of the crater.

Typhoon opened his mouth to protest but his lidar cut him off almost of its own volition, pinpointing the case on the floor near him, jostled by the crash. He stared at it with wide optics before lunging for it, hugging it close to his chest and scrambling after her. "Wait, Baseline, wait! You forgot your weapon!" Perhaps he should have let her go without them, so she could achieve the "unintimidating" aspect, but if the Akalouthans reacted poorly, she needed defenses. He didn't want to be, but he was worried about her safety, as he worried about everything.

"Oh yes. Thank you, I quite forgot about it." Baseline sounded mildly pleased and intrigued that he remembered them. Taking her weapons back, she reattached them. "I am grateful for your assistance." Generally speaking, she disliked being helped. Working alone was much more suitable to her, but after the war Baseline become more used to accepting help, if not a little begrudgingly. "Do you have a scanner to detect other life forms?"

He laughed a bit tensely. "You're, um, welcome. The detecting is what I was just doing with my hands, if you saw. There's a…" He paused, repeating the process and frowning lightly. "…mass approaching, a bit smaller than myself, and organic. Hopefully one of the residents, but if it isn't…well, I'll run like the Pit and you can defend me like you were saying before." He was only partially joking, placing a hand on his chassis plating where his T-cog should be.

"That sounds reasonable." Baseline hopped back into the crater. "If they are coming this way, it would be best to stick together. From which front is the being arriving?" She looked around, unconcerned with matters that regarded his T-cog.

Baseline didn't inquire and he was relieved. Perhaps she already knew somehow, which made it easier than voicing the problem. "Southeast," he declared, stepping toward the crater to join her and then reconsidering. "Maybe it matters to them that we're with the Autobots. We could negotiate?"

"So heading that way would be best to greet the resident?" she questioned, turning her head. Truthfully she hadn't caught on to his T-cog issues, otherwise it would have been mentioned and probably without any tactfulness.

"I suppose," he confirmed, shuffling in that direction. It was difficult to make up his processor about this. If he were any other Bot, he would have volunteered and would already be plunging into the foreign world. Instead he stopped at the beginning of the shrubbery and called, "H-Hello! Are you looking for me—or us? I saw you coming…I'm Typhoon. Who or what are you?"

Baseline looked around. "We come bearing no ill will. All we need is some energon and in return we’ll give you something you want or need," she said, following Typhoon’s lead.

She was doing well at negotiating, despite her reminders that she wasn't a good talker, Typhoon mused, instantly shelving that thought when a being in synthetic cloth and armor emerged, looking confused for a split second before brandishing a long staff. Typhoon took a step back when the alien thrust it at him, glancing at Baseline to see what her reaction was. He doubted she would be impressed.

Baseline didn’t move, other than to simply hold up her hands. "Like I said, my companion and I are not here by choice, but in return for help we will provide you in turn with something."

What exactly did she think they would be giving the beings? Typhoon wondered as he carefully tapped the Autobot sigil for the man to see. He squinted at it and then, to Typhoon's greater confusion, his eyes lit up.

"Are you with Glyph? Has she finally returned to our planet?" he asked eagerly. Typhoon winced at the name, recognizing it as another Mini who had long since joined the Allspark.

Baseline had no idea what they would give. She had hoped the indigenous species would have ideas about that. Looking at Typhoon for how to answer that question, she remained quiet. She assumed this was something personal.

"Um…well, Glyph…" Typhoon rebooted his vocalizer apprehensively. "She's with some friends at the moment." _And she will be for all time_ , his processor sighed, but he didn't dare speak it.

"Tap-Out, then?" the being probed. "Glyph's friend and bodyguard?"

Last Typhoon had heard, Tap-Out had been promoted to the Elite Guard and stayed off world somewhere, but evidently it wasn't here. "Yes," he managed at last, quietly. "I, um, didn't know him personally, but I knew of him. Never mind that, we were wondering if you could spare any fuel for our ship."

Baseline nodded. "As he said," she affirmed. "We apologize for the inconvenience but we must be on our way quickly." There was a crash in the woods to their far left, the crack of many trees breaking to the will of some unyielding force. Baseline turned her head quickly. "Was that of your people’s doing?" she asked.

The man glanced sharply to their left, tensing. Typhoon impulsively took a few steps back, vents catching and processor starting to race, even more so when their new guide answered Baseline's question.

"No…I was the only one sent to investigate your crash."

"Now might be a good time to slide back into the crater," Typhoon suggested, almost inaudible as the crashing grew louder and closer.

Baseline patted his back. "That idea might have to wait. That crash sounded of metal echoing. This is an organic world," she said, analyzing the sound replaying it her head. "Inhabitant, it would be safer if you stayed with us." She brought out her extending pole. "The other crash may not yield friendly life forms."

Typhoon vented shakily, shuffling in front of the Akalouthan and priming his sensors. He didn't have to analyze the sound in his processor as his companions might; his audials tuned into his sensors, feeding him data. "Baseline!" he hissed. "It's a Cybertronian!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who follow me might recognize Typhoon as one of Gears' neighbors in [Joy In All Circumstances](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5731045/chapters/13206283)! I appreciated his potential depth, so I decided to expand on him. ;)


	2. Crash and Bomb

The ever-closer crashing of the trees put everyone on edge, everyone but the inhabitant.

"One of the chosen ones?" the inhabitant piped up, only for Typhoon to shush him.

"Larger frame…but lighter metal…I think a flyer," he continued. He greatly avoided flyers, mostly because they were much more difficult to outrun but also because many of the citizens of Vos had turned to the Decepticons.

"Con…76% chance."  Baseline picked up the inhabitant and moved down into the crater, placing him gently back on the ground away from fire.

Typhoon certainly didn't like the percentage Baseline gave him, but he knew it to be true. The closer the sound got, the more he could admit she may be accurate. "So what do we need to do?" he demanded. "I could, uh…take the native into the _Pursuit_ , put him behind the siege doors!" The "and seal myself in with him" was heavily implied.

Baseline thought for a moment. There were at best three choices: one, stay and hide in the ship; two, stay and try to reason; three, run. Fighting was not the best action, considering the inhabitant could prove a liability. "We should all take cover in the craft so we can bottleneck them. If they prove friend or foe will be decided later," she said, moving towards the ship.

Typhoon nodded vigorously and plucked their native off the ground, sprinting back toward the ship and hoping Baseline would be able to catch up. If not, her weapons were good make, though he hadn't even seen her handle them yet. Pros and cons to that: no fighting had been necessary, but he didn't know how well she could actually defend herself. Scientists weren't always the best of fighters.

He paid no attention as the inhabitant oohed and ahhed at the technology they were passing. He didn't want the man handling it or even really seeing it; who knew what damage he might do if he stole any and took it to his people? Typhoon shuddered at the possibility and turned right down the hallway, stopping with a gasp when he found the way barred by debris.

Baseline stopped at the doors, closing them, and hid behind the first corner. She readied her pole, which wasn't much for attacking but at least would catch them off guard.

The Decepticon was having a Pit of a time and he uttered a curse. This blasted green planet and its entanglements was getting to be annoying. _If I remain here any longer,_ he thought, _there will be plants growing in between my gears._ He headed towards the crash site. It wasn't Wheeljack’s; the ship was too different in shape. He continued his approach, wondering what he would do if it was an Autobot vessel.

He slid down into the crater, a few rocks hitting the side of the hull. The door had been forced open before, so it was a simple task to reopen it.

Baseline called from inside, "Who are you and what is it you seek?"

Dreadwing faltered slightly before stepping onboard. A femme? That was unexpected. "I am Dreadwing and I seek to find who this ship belongs to. Who are you?"

Baseline’s voice box hummed in slight nervousness as she stepped out before him. They were separated by a bit of the hallway and she pointed her staff at him. "I am Baseline. A scientist."

Dreadwing nodded. "Allied with the Autobots, I see," he said, spotting her insignia. "But you are not the owner of this ship. You and I are much too large. Therefore you must have stolen it." He spoke these last words harshly. Stealing from any other than a Decepticon wasn't normal for Autobots, but it was despicable nonetheless.

Baseline shook her head. "I never said I own this vessel. I am a passenger. Leave, Dreadwing, and I will not follow, nor track, nor fight you." There was stress on her joints; she wasn't moving but she felt like she was shaking.

Well, from what Typhoon was overhearing, this Dreadwing was certainly not an Autobot, but what Typhoon was more worried about was that he was looking for the captain of the vessel—namely him. He shuttered his optics, feeling the fear sharpen his senses. He would've appreciated it if he had been able to move.

"What's wrong?" the inhabitant whispered all too loudly, grasping one of Typhoon's fingers, which were tightening around him. "Why do you not go to help your comrade?"

He didn't answer, his thoughts questioning the truth of this. Was she really his comrade? Could he ever think she was? Why, _why_ couldn't he move? He really wasn't sure which direction he wanted to go.

Dreadwing stared at her, optics cold and unwavering. He stepped forward and she held her ground, aiming to hit him with her staff, but it was all too easily knocked aside. Baseline grabbed for her scalpel; though small, it was still sharp.

Dreadwing knocked her down hard, sending her tumbling, and she was out almost instantly. Proceeding casually through the ship, Dreadwing looked for supplies. He couldn't stay long, but the captain would know where what he needed would be.

Typhoon heard the short scuffle and then frantically extended his free hand, analyzing the footsteps he heard. Dreadwing…He shouldn’t have trusted Baseline to fend him off on her own! "Stay here," he ordered desperately to their native, setting him down and creeping back toward the turn in the hallway. He was shaking vigorously, but Dreadwing was already coming this way. It would be a matter of time, not if but when the Con discovered him. Hesitantly he peered around the corner.

Dreadwing was walking towards him and he spotted the smaller Bot. "You there! Are you the captain of this vessel?" he questioned curtly, not fond of playing this pathetic game. Minibots were supposed to be renowned for their courage; why was this one not facing him head on?

Typhoon nodded jerkily, coming further into view and squaring his shoulders to keep them from hunching in dread. "Yes…what can I do for you?" Internally he winced at the question; it made him seem to be condoning a Decepticon presence. Frowning thinly, he revised, "What do you want from me?"

Dreadwing chuckled a bit. "I need energon to continue my journey and a little patching on some of the wounds I sustained. Do this and in return I won't blow up your ship. Do this quickly and I will let you and your companions live," he ordered, tapping the weapon on his back threateningly.

"I'm neither a medic nor a fuel stop," Typhoon admitted. "If I give you energon, I'll run out and—" His voice grew a bit smaller. "—ah, die. And if I refuse to give you fuel or fetch it too slowly, you'll detonate all of the energon you supposedly want. By the way," he added, trying to put a stern note in to strengthen the words, "threatening my ship is not the way to make me cooperate. Or my companions. What did you do to the scientist? D-Did you kill her?"

Dreadwing huffed. "But it's a way to keep you motivated. You two are of little threat and as for your lack of energon, I will take half. I'm feeling generous and not in the mood to argue. So fetch the energon! Then rouse your scientist," the intimidating Con demanded. He was itching to leave before he had to go up against Wheeljack again.

"Um, I'm afraid I can't do that," Typhoon choked out, flinching. "I—I'm an Autobot and I'm a Culumexian. I have a reputation to uphold—or preferably to change. So, sir, you're going to rethink your idea that I'm not a problem." It was physically causing him pain to force this out; he could feel his coding burn, fighting his spark for dominance and making him feel lightheaded. It was easy to feel the fear, but fighting it could very well put him down before Dreadwing even touched him.

Dreadwing sighed. "You Minibots are renowned for your strength and courage, yet you shudder at my presence; you are not going to fight. If you do, I will kill you and then your companion, after she has fixed me."

Typhoon clenched his jaw, optics flickering around the hallway. There had to be something he could use as a weapon; this was his ship and he knew it better than anyone else! He knew the layout, the codes for the doors—

 _Wait, where is he standing?_ Typhoon looked him up and down for a few kliks and then clenched his fists.

"I'll be doing the damage," he stated, praying he was right as he lunged for the keypad on the opposite wall, typing in the code for bringing the hallway doors closed. If he was right, if the crash hadn't damaged the mechanisms, Dreadwing would be crushed and then he would be free to purge the contents of his chassis.

Dreadwing leapt back, narrowly avoiding the closing doors. They scraped his arms and clipped his leg. He growled, holding back the sensations of pain. "Bad move, Autobot!" he barked. He lumbered towards Baseline’s unconscious body and sat her up, hoping she would awaken soon.

Baseline grunted, her optics opening. Seeing Dreadwing in front of her was frightening. "What do you want?" She clenched her fists, ready to fight.

Dreadwing was not in the mood for any more tricks. "I need you to fix me up. Your companion locked himself in a different part of this ship. Failing to fix me, you will be executed." He emphasized the last line none too pleasantly.

Baseline nodded. "I'll need my tools. They were by the cockpit," she surrendered as he allowed her to stand.

Dreadwing watched her closely as she went and looked through her tools. He hadn't expected her to be so willing, but he didn't have the time to press why she was helping.

"Sit," Baseline commanded, "and show me your wounds." The truth was that she preferred life to certain death.

Vents heaving, Typhoon slumped against the wall, dizziness numbing his fingers as he dragged them across the floor, trying to keep himself grounded. The sensation was familiar, one of many panic attacks he'd endured since NET. _I go a whole diun without one. Then join the Autobots, they said,_ he agonized. _I do and a scientist and a Decepticon find me and threaten my sanity!_

It was then that the inhabitant tapped his knee, shouting, "Something is on the other side of the rubble!" It was all the warning he received before a deafening boom instigated Typhoon's hoarse scream.

"You should take better care of your baby's wings when you touch down," a strange voice drawled, echoing down the side tunnel.

Baseline heard the loud explosion and winced. She figured one of the more damaged and volatile parts of the vessel had burst. "You should leave. There could be more explosions," she suggested, patching his wounds as painfully as possible.

Dreadwing clenched his jaw. "Get up." Either she was right or it was the Autobot, but she was a hostage in any case. "Grab your tools." He gritted his teeth, some of the previous wounds still leaking.

Baseline obeyed and whirled back at him with her scalpel in hand, attempting to slice at a particularly large area of visible circuitry.

Dreadwing’s actions were slowed by his pain but Baseline still ended up with his hand around her neck, crushing her vents. He didn't have much energon to spare on these pathetic Autobots. He tossed her aside and snatched up the energon candies by the console. This would have to suffice.

Wheeljack strode confidently into the tunnel, dual swords drawn but held at his sides, fluidly stepping over the small organic creature. Who knew how he had ended up on this ship, but that didn't matter. He was more interested in the mech curled up on the floor. "You haven't seen the piece of Decepticon scrap making my life miserable, have you?"

Typhoon tried to look up at the stranger, but he was too stiff to really move. Tensely he hummed an affirmative, but the inhabitant spoke up before he could try answering audibly. "You…who are you?" he asked in awe of the new Bot. "You have an air about you, like something of my culture—"

"Yeah, yeah," Wheeljack interrupted. "Listen, I'm kind of in a hurry, so if Hummer wants to point me in the right direction, I'll be there to see the Con off to the Allspark."

Dreadwing took off from the ship running and Baseline coughed, trying to get her vents to unconstrict. Twice today she’d been beaten down and it certainly left some bad marks.

"That way," the inhabitant told the Wrecker, following eagerly when Wheeljack moved past him toward the door. "But can I come with you? There's a prophecy—"

Wheeljack rolled his optics and gestured for Typhoon to rise. "C’mon, stranger, I don't like to use two grenades in the same space, so be a good Bot and open the door." He had of course noticed the sigil on the Minibot, but why he wasn't moving was beyond him.

Hoisting himself up with help from the wall, Typhoon went for the door pad. "Who are you?" he asked, reeling slightly.

"Wheeljack," was all he said in reply as the doors slid open and he darted into the next area of the ship. He let his anger give him speed; Dreadwing was his, for Seaspray's sake and any other Wreckers who had suffered because of him.

Baseline got up, still trying to fix her vents. She stumbled a little as she walked to the door. "Hey Typhoon, are you alive in there?" she asked banging on the door. Baseline braced herself for no answer. She was too unprepared to have even held Dreadwing off. It wasn't her fault if they had died, but she certainly didn't help the situation. "Typhoon?" Baseline called again. "Dreadwing’s left."

As he continued his escape, Dreadwing was still leaking energon and trying to patch himself up as he went.

Typhoon punched the door controls a second time, waving a little at Baseline. "He's finally gone? Hopefully that Wheeljack character can find him," he murmured. "Are you okay? What did he do to the ship? Is everything…safe?" Of course it wasn't safe, the ship had been breached and from the sound of Wheeljack's explosives, the left wing was gone. As a matter of fact, so was their guide. He'd gone with Wheeljack, which meant they may have to follow too.

The Wrecker swept his way cleanly through the trees with his blades, much to the unsaid disapproval of the native, but he had more important things to worry about. He couldn't let some plants get in his way.

Baseline nodded. "I am functional and he didn't touch the ship. Dreadwing required some help medically and took some supplies but he took your candies too, sorry." Baseline said. She had a few mesh wounds but that wasn't important. "What happened? Are you well? I heard an explosion." She began curiously eyeing the gaping hole in the ship behind him.

Sighing tersely, Typhoon wiped a hand over his face and readjusted his visor. "An Autobot blew it open; he’s trying to catch Dreadwing. Did you see him, which way he went? Our guide went with him, so unless we go quickly we'll be lost. We'll have to stay in here."

As much as he liked that idea, it was highly unrealistic to think they could repair the damage to the ship without supplies. "C’mon," he urged softly, edging toward the entryway yet again. Every time it got a little harder to go outside.

"How much can we repair staying here?" she asked, noting his hesitation. Baseline did want to leave and explore, but after what just happened she wanted to stick together even more. She looked over the landscape, thinking that even if they did somehow find energon they probably wouldn't be able to repair their ship without any metal. It seemed the other Autobot did more damage than the Decepticon. Sighing, Baseline shook her head. They might not even get off this planet.

"Not much," Typhoon admitted. "I estimate we could get the controls repaired, but not the wing." He scooted forward, poking his head outside. "I don't think I even need to use the sensors…there's a trail of cut trees and energon."

Despite the ease of following them, he didn't think they were very well equipped to fight. Still, three against one could be better odds.

"Then let us depart," Baseline said, stepping out from behind him. "It would be best to fix the ship as quickly as possible." Baseline sighed, for this was going to be a longer day than it had been.

Wheeljack felt a surge of triumph as he caught a glimpse of a wing ahead, quickening his pace and vaulting over a fallen log. "I've got you now, you piece of slag!" he hollered, not caring if he was giving himself away. All that mattered was putting him down permanently.

Dreadwing chuckled and pressed the detonate button on his remote. It hadn't taken much thought to realize that Wheeljack would follow him, follow him right into a trap.

A thunderous boom shook Wheeljack off his feet. Gracefully he rolled, the Cybertronian streaming out of him not as graceful. Flipping another grenade out of subspace, he hurled it in the estimated direction of the Seeker.

"Stop! You'll destroy the forest!" The inhabitant burst out.

"There're bad guys in your prophesies, right?" Wheeljack shouted over the grenade detonating. "Consider him with them!"

The grenade detonated just shy of his position. Not moving, Dreadwing gripped his wounded chassis. He needed to double back to that ship and weld some of his wounds shut before taking off again.

The crashing ahead had stopped, which meant Dreadwing had stopped. Spinning his right hand weapon, Wheeljack smirked for a nanoklik before it became twisted. "Well? Gonna meet your fate now with 'honor'?" he sneered. The word burned in his mouth. "C’mon, Decepticon, don't be shy…"

Dreadwing frowned. That was a twisted way to look at "honor", killing an already wounded mech. He tsked silently, thinking of the best way to figure out how to get out of this situation.

Baseline stepped gingerly over the burning trees and spotted Wheeljack. "Hey, Sir I-like-to-blow-open-ships!" she called sharply. "Is this Con really so important that you'll screw over other Bots so they can't get to Earth?" She was none too happy to find that not only was this ecosystem being demolished, but their way to Optimus Prime's team was ruined.

Wheeljack glanced at Baseline in surprise. She and the other were going to Earth? Interesting. That meant they wanted to join Prime's team. "Don't talk so loud," he muttered, nodding toward the thicker area of the hedge. "Get your weapon out and be quick."

Typhoon, standing half behind his companion, carefully eyed the hedge, trying to see through it. Just how far was Dreadwing?  Was he waiting to spring or would he throw a grenade? Was he faking the extent of his injuries? What exactly was his skill set?

Baseline frowned. She would have said something more if she hadn’t been so put off by his response. She pulled out her pole and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

The scientist, Baseline, wasn't too quiet, especially that steamed. Dreadwing decided to take evasive maneuvers after hearing the others arrive. Then he could return to their ship. He left the wrapping the candies were in and began moving away from the ship, tossing another bomb over the hedge so it could provide cover while he made a getaway.

"Frag!" Wheeljack burst out as the bomb twirled through the air, priming his sword to smack it back the way it had come. It would have to be a short stroke, just high enough to—Before he could finish calculating, he heard a deep thrum which ached in his audials and the bomb flew much farther than he might have knocked it. He wasn't about to mention that however!

Typhoon shrugged impulsively, dropping his hand. "Soundwaves," he explained hastily, unnerved by the affronted look Wheeljack was giving him. "Hope you don't mind…Um, don't be angry, I mean."

Wheeljack's scowl deepened. "I'm not much of a team player. A word of warning next time? And don't ever do that to one of mine!"

Baseline looked at Wheeljack sternly. "I know we're supposed to be on the same side, so we could afford to be more cordial. Your real anger isn't meant for us, so I take no offense, but my partner here is just trying to help!" She sighed. "Either way I would ask for your hospitality in repairing our ship." Baseline was still on the same track. "Dreadwing will still be here for a little bit. His wounds are severe enough to leave him temporarily grounded, granted not for long," she tried to explain. "We do not wish to bother you for too long, nor delay your hunt."

"If he's trying to help, he can keep back while I'm looking for Dreadwing, who just got away while we've been 'bonding'," Wheeljack said dryly, trying—but not very hard—to hide his frustration.

Baseline glowered at Wheeljack. She didn't like being taken for a fool, nor her words made into jokes.

When he heard the explosion, Dreadwing tried to get out of audio range as quickly as possible so he could move freely as he liked.

"Listen," the inhabitant interrupted Baseline and Wheeljack’s argument. "I don't think their flying craft can fly any further, as damaged as it is." He looked to Typhoon for agreement before continuing, "And I believe there was another ship some friends of mine were sent to investigate."

"Dreadwing's," Wheeljack muttered.

"Probably. So since he has no way to get off the planet, you could come to our dwelling and rest—"

"No way," Wheeljack accented his words with a sharp shake of the head. "I'm finding him before he has the idea of looking for my ship!"

Answering the inhabitant, Baseline declared, "We don't wish to stay. As for you—" She turned back to Wheeljack. "I would like to know your name and how we can help. For the time being, you are our best option if you'll have us trespass briefly in your mission. You don't need help, but a standard medic might be able to accomplish something of use to you," she offered. Baseline did not know what Typhoon was capable of, so she didn't offer.

"Wheeljack," he introduced himself. "Hi, and you're right, I don't need help." He paused, considering, and then grudgingly admitted, "But I do wanna know how bad Dread's bleeding." Cutting aside the hedge, he gestured at the energon trail. "What would you say?"

Typhoon couldn't help but feel a bit out of place in this situation. This was a scientist's job and Baseline could do it well, he was sure. This train of thought brought a stirring of unease and he mumbled, "I think I'll go back to the ship, get started on the damage." In reality he was considering the inhabitant's offer; Glyph and Tap-Out had been treated well among the people, but better than that they had been safe. Mostly.

Baseline’s form relaxed a little from her ill temper. "Okay, Typhoon. I'll be back; try to not worry," she cautioned him as she turned to the energon trail and moved to get a closer look. Kneeling down, she inspected it and frowned. "From this, coupled with the wounds he tried to have me repair for him, I'd say he’s in a fair amount of pain and trackable. The leak is not fatal. I only nicked him with my scalpel," she said, frowning deeper at her own failure.

Dreadwing was heading back to Typhoon’s ship and was almost there. He had just finished leaving the last fake trail for them to follow.

Typhoon nodded in response to Baseline's suggestion and broke into a sprint, hoping to reach the _Pursuit_ more quickly than they had left it. As it was his only means of travel, he was quite fond of it and…well, he worried. It wasn't sentient, it wasn't a friend, but it got him where he ought to be and that was enough.

Wheeljack glanced over his shoulder and watched the scientist's companion leave. "Does the little guy have anything better than soundwaves?" he questioned offhandedly. "He seems like he needs to."

"I do not know," Baseline confessed. "I just met him. Typhoon seems a good enough person, though I regret I am off-putting to him. The NET experiments leave him extremely wary of scientists like myself. Though he liked you till you chastised him," she added flippantly standing up. "Well, come on. You want to catch Dreadwing, yes?" She started walking, analyzing the ground. "How intelligent is Dreadwing as a strategist?"

Dreadwing could repair himself but it would be more painful with more room for mistakes than if the Autobot had just done as asked.

"NET, huh? I've heard about bots like that," Wheeljack mused, catching up with her in a few strides. "Can't say I blame him for how he thinks of you and yours. Medical types aren't too fond of me either, but hey, I give ’em a job." He smirked slightly, twirling one sword, and then strode out ahead, following the drops of energon he could see. She could tell how much Dreadwing was spilling, but he wasn't a half-clock; he was able to follow a trail. This one in particular was easy…very easy.

A smile tugged on Baseline’s normally apathetic face. "Medical types don't like you because you get yourself into trouble and end up back with them. It's probably more likely they hate patching you up due to the fact that one of these orns you'll end up dead instead of injured. And they don't want that. Also, you didn't answer the question: I need to know if I need to take into account everything besides the energon, such as the broken branches over there." She pointed to the side of them. "If Dreadwing is smart, this is likely a false path. Otherwise we should keep going."

"Well, if I'm dead, I don't need any medic touching my body," Wheeljack shot back, unwilling to admit he was rather enjoying this banter. It had been a while since he'd had a decent conversation; actually, since the last time he'd left Earth.

"No, you wouldn't," she said, "but anyone who works in fixing other Cybertronians would be dismayed in having to bury someone as infuriating as yourself." Baseline sighed. She was also rather enjoying herself, talking to someone who would say more than a few words and was at least a little more trusting than Typhoon, though Wheeljack’s condescending attitude towards her bothered her. "All that wasted effort trying to patch you up, just to get yourself blown up for following the wrong lead."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be the tracker, so if you think it's a false trail, you follow it and I'll follow the real one." His vocals were heavy with sarcasm but he was starting to worry that she may be accurate, that Dreadwing was getting further away already.

"As for splitting up,” Baseline continued as though she hadn’t heard, “I would advise against it and just follow the broken foliage. It’s a better trail, although I suppose it'll be just as winding…After Dreadwing’s death, will you be headed to Earth as well?"

"Winding? Alright, hope you're up to it," Wheeljack teased, vaulting over the broken branches and marring that area of the path, but fortunately not too much of it. He was keen on catching Dreadwing and anything that could ruin the chances of it was what he was avoiding. "Earth…I don't know, I just got used to being in space again, and Prime's a little stuffy. But you have fun with him if you wanna."

Baseline nodded at his statements. "I don’t mind rules as long as my work isn't interfered with," she stated matter-of-factly. "I would, however, probably enjoy seeing you on Earth. Perhaps you'll be more pleasant," she admitted. "So at least stop by if my partner and I make it that far. I might be able to configure something for you so you can more easily repair yourself." She’d been thinking of making some tools having to do with energon that would prove useful in the field.

"Change of locations doesn't affect my personality, thank Primus," Wheeljack drawled. "And my work…well, rules don't dare to interfere. Still, I might drop by just to make sure I'm right about Prime. And hey, if it means I don't have to meet with the doc, I'm all for new technology." As he continued on with the trail, Wheeljack abruptly noticed something. "Um…femme, if I'm reading the portents of the path right, this is leadin' right back to your downed ship. And…your little buddy."

Baseline slowed processing what he'd said. "Typhoon. The kid doesn't have a chance." She looked at Wheeljack, her optics wide with fear. This was the first time she'd showed anyone in a long time more than a glimmer of what she felt. It had been a long time since she had someone else she remotely cared about in her life. Mostly she'd make short conversation then never see them again. There was nothing meaningful except her work, but Typhoon had taken an interest in her even though he was afraid of her. Typhoon had kind of grown on her. A few nanokliks later her expression hardened and she looked away. She was ashamed that she let Wheeljack see anything other than apathy. She gesticulated to her pole. "You should to make a run at Dreadwing. I’m no match but I would be a good distraction."

Wheeljack found the fear passing over her surprising; she cared about her partner even though he avoided her. It kind of reminded him of Arcee, watching his back even when he didn't want it and didn't pay attention or thanks. "Alright, you make a scene and I'll hit him where it hurts," he ordered, flipping a grenade at her. "Scene maker, at your service. Just choose the right moment; you scientists are good at that."

Baseline nodded, catching the grenade. "Don't get tangled in these vines," she said as a parting shot. Baseline had kept her wits about her and understood where to go. As she made a dash for the ship, Baseline’s only thoughts were hoping she could make it in time and analyzing the possibilities in aiming the grenade.

Wheeljack scowled at her goodbye but did as he had said he would, going around the other way to catch Dreadwing from an opposite direction. This was what he enjoyed: just him and his weapons, coming up on prey.

Back at the crash site, Typhoon came around the side of the _Pursuit_ , wincing when he saw the smoke and the gaping hole. _Tricurse that Bot, look what he's done!_ He agonized, sighing deeply and setting out for his tools.

Dreadwing approached the ship cautiously. The small Bot had just arrived. Dreadwing needed only the scientist’s tools. If he could sneak past him and out again, he could be free to leave this wretched planet.

Typhoon could admit he hadn't been expecting to perform maintenance so early in the journey, so most of the tools he had were halfway through the process of being upgraded. That left him using some of Baseline's foreign tools. He hesitated to even touch them, but it wasn’t in a dangerous setting where anything could happen to him, so he gingerly picked up her box and prepared the specific ones he needed.

Dreadwing had made his way up to the entrance of the ship and slowly entered. He strained his audio receptors to try and see if the bot was close. Leering around one of the corners, he spotted Typhoon rifling through the scientist bag. Scrap. If he took it with him he’d have to confront or incapacitate Typhoon. This bot was a timid fellow; maybe the direct approach was best after all, Dreadwing mused.

Typhoon appreciated his audials very deeply, as they were keener than most of his kind, so he caught the slightest creaking from behind him and looked up, optics wide. "Try not to worry," he mouthed a few times before slowly pivoting to face the entrance. Surely it was nothing, surely it was the wind or Baseline returning or—He knew better than to hope for anything like that.

Dreadwing stepped out. "I need the medical kit," he began by bluntly stating the obvious. His wound had gotten larger, the constant movement irritating his open wounds. Energon leaked down the hand covering his side.

Typhoon blinked several times and then dropped the medkit on the floor behind his foot, crouching into a defensive position and balancing his hands. He was shaking just as badly as usual, but he knew and was afraid of what the others might say or do to him if they knew he let the Con escape with a dangerous set of tools and a way to treat himself. This was his ship and he was going to defend it and anything in it—including himself.

Dreadwing scoffed. This Autobot was pitiful. How could a Minibot have so little self-respect? "Give me the kit," he repeated. "Give it to me and I'll leave and you can stop shuddering."

"Oh no, I never stop shaking," Typhoon replied. "But I've gotten used to it. If you want the kit, well, c'mon. You t-take it if you can." He was sure Dreadwing could and would take it, but as long as he could stall, there was a chance Baseline and Wheeljack would arrive. He knew how badly the Wrecker wanted a swing or two at the Seeker. Just a little longer…He was good at keeping people at bay.

Dreadwing sighed and slid into a fighting stance, aiming a punch. There wasn't much force behind it. He was trying to gauge how the Bot would react. "Is this your first battle?" he asked. Mercy depended on whether he was willing to die for a simple medical kit. He didn't like spilling more energon than was necessary.

Typhoon dodged, kicking the med kit further behind him, and pushed lightly at Dreadwing with his sonar, scoffing, "No, of course not. I've been through a lot, though I may not look like it!" He didn't like being underestimated in the least. Sometimes it helped him get away but it wasn't useful for an intimidating opponent. He had to do right by his people in the presence of larger frames; he could just imagine what his neighbor Airlock would say if he could see him now. Something to the likes of "Fight back, you squealing retro-rat!" but with more choice words in between. Steeling himself, he pressed harder, trying to force Dreadwing back toward the entrance.

Dreadwing was caught off guard by the sound blast. Stepping back, he guarded himself and after the sonar stopped he pulled the large cannon from his back. "Fine then. I will take it and you will be left with the Allspark."

Typhoon yelped, unsure of how else to react to a cannon being aimed at him, and backpedaled, his hands dropping to his sides. "You—you shouldn't do that," he half-stated, half-pleaded, picking up the medical kit and hugging it to his chest like a shield. "I may not be brave, but I'm strong. I'll crush it and then where will you be?" He thought he saw a flicker of movement near the entrance, but his visor didn't have great peripheral vision so he couldn’t be sure.

Baseline detonated the explosion outside of the entrance. "Dreadwing, come out and face me again. If you have extinguished my partner's spark, that's one more enemy you will make that will stop at nothing to hunt you down and return the favor."

Dreadwing growled and backed up toward the entrance. "Is this the way you want to play it, Minibot?" he growled, standing up. He twisted so his gun was facing the entrance. "I will leave now and take out her spark if you do not let me have the kit."

Baseline stood across from the giant smoking crater that started at the end of the port and ended crumbling at her feet.

Typhoon hissed through his teeth, conflicted. If he gave him the kit, who knew if he would even let them go? It wasn’t a guarantee for their lives, though he did seem to have a concept of honor, and if he didn't give it up, he certainly would kill Baseline, if not them both. "But you're wounded; you can't take us both," he protested, knowing otherwise, but fortunately he didn't have to make a decision, as Wheeljack hurtled through the air without warning, tackling Dreadwing to the floor from outside.

Dreadwing chuckled, smirking right in Wheeljack's face. "I figured you would show up. Before you do anything rash, know that this whole crater is wired to a few of my bombs. If you don't let me leave, you'll never make it out of here either. Not just you but the other Autobots will die too."

Baseline, waiting on the other side, began to climb down the crater and up to the shuttle bay doors. "Wheeljack, is Typhoon in there? Is he alive?" she called inside.

Dreadwing wordlessly stared at Wheeljack, knowing he had won. Wheeljack might risk his own life, but not two Bots who weren't Wreckers.

"I'm fine," Typhoon called back, slightly surprised but edging toward the entryway. "Um, what about you? Okay?" Even if she said yes, who knew if they would continue to be? From his manner, Wheeljack was the type who could let his anger get the better of him and he had just met them. He might not care enough to make the right choice, though Typhoon knew his definition of right wasn't everyone's.

 _Slag,_ Wheeljack thought to himself, his hands tightening, twisting some of the smaller plates of Dreadwing's armor. He had Seaspray's killer in his hands and now a couple of travelers were making him hesitate. _Slag it all to the fragging Pits of Kaon!_ He kept his EM field cool as he rose, jabbing a finger toward the entrance. "No resources," he spat. "Run, you Pit-spawn. And next time I'm gonna kill you slowly, no matter if you've got a bomb in my spark chamber or someone else's."

Dreadwing glared at Wheeljack. "You will always attempt to save others. While noble, it will always get you into trouble." With that Dreadwing left. He'd find a Decepticon-friendly planet where he could be patched up. As he passed Baseline, he added, "Next time no one will be here to help you, so expect no such mercy from other Decepticons."

Baseline approached to see Wheeljack fuming and Typhoon shuddering. "Typhoon, I am glad you are okay. Wheeljack, I am sorry that he's gotten away." Baseline didn't ask how; she didn't need to know, but for some reason she felt terribly guilty. She struggled to understand why she was feeling guilty but determined it was irrelevant.

Wheeljack continued to scowl, but he could see she was feeling bad. That didn't make it any less disappointing or infuriating. "He hasn't," he stated. "I'm goin' after him. Hope you and the little guy reach Prime." He paused, considering, and then added, "You can tell that native guy that I want him and his people to give you whatever you need to fix the ship. Apparently my word means something here." With that he tipped one sword at them in a semblance of a wave and took off at full speed into the forest. If he hurried, he could catch Dreadwing before he reached his ship and took off for the next unknown location.


	3. Trouble In A Place Less Than Paradise

The inhabitants were extremely helpful, almost annoyingly so. Nevertheless they managed to get the ship fixed after a few orns. They had worked tirelessly to repair the ship, not leaving much room for talking about the events before. Once in flight, Baseline sighed.

"Typhoon, I feel I need to express that I might be able to help you with your panic disorder. I could make a chip that would stabilize the majority of your moods. While I failed to protect you and the inhabitant, you have a chance at doing something better and your crippling fear mostly gets the better of you. So if I am killed, you might have a chance at escape. After what has occurred, maybe you trust me enough to help you," she stated faster than normal, trying not to harm the Minibot’s psyche further.

Typhoon glanced at her nervously, unsure of how to respond to this. Any sane NET bot would jump at the chance to be fixed, though most of them were known for not being sane in the slightest. He knew he should be agreeing, but what if she did something worse, by accident or purposefully? Culumexians learned a lot about someone through their craft and from what he'd seen during the repair of the ship, she was a good worker, but was he able to trust her with his programming? She was trying to give him a gift…

"I…um…I need to think about it," he mumbled hurriedly, swallowing hard and fixing his optics on the controls. He hoped she would understand; he wasn't trying to spite her, he really did need time to think.

Baseline nodded. "Of course; I would expect nothing less. It is a procedure, which means I would be operating on you in a way. You should think about it, though the worst a chip could do is burn itself out in kliks. It isn't an integral part of your central systems, so it wouldn't actually harm you if it burned up," she said matter-of-factly. "Either way, if you don't mind, I would like to work on a project. Either your chip or some of those tools for mobile medical care assistance."

Nodding, he assured her, "Of course you can work on your tools. I-It's not like you're going to do anything with them." _Not while I'm piloting, at least,_ he added mentally. _Not until I've made a decision._ Clenching his teeth, he dug the fingertips of his free hand into the palm they belonged to, silently admonishing himself. Yes, he trusted her. Yes, he was still afraid of her. After NET, he'd been afraid of his own creators. Maybe it would be best to try the chip and possibly make restitution to all of the people he had scared off over the years…simply by being scared of them. He tightened his hand further, at least until a hailing beep caught his attention.

"Someone's…hailing on all frequencies," he announced, somewhat alarmed. "Whatever this is, it's like it's on a loop. Quite clever with the low-grade tech it's originating from…"

Baseline perked up. "Play it louder," she requested, curious. "Low-grade and clever means it's probably an Autobot…84% chance. Decepticons wouldn't use all of the frequencies…They are desperate then," she added after a few mental calculations. "Anyone you know out here?" Baseline did not know anyone, so it was a moot point in seeing if she could identify the signal.

"No, no," Typhoon brushed the idea away, enunciating it with a shake of the head. "Well…Gears and his pace-mates. But I don't know if they're even still online, much less all the way out here." With these words he cranked up the comm. system, wincing at the static. "I'll try to clear up some of the interference. Whoever it was, Bot, Con, or NAIL, they were messaging through massive jamming systems." Oddly enough, deciphering comm. conversations of passing vessels was one of his hobbies. He enjoyed making sure the area he would be reaching in three or four days would be safe beforehand and he had a good audial for it. Thus it didn't take long for the message to clear.

"To any Autobots passing Regulon Four," a voice whispered through the speakers, "this is Spotlight, third-in-command from Autobot Outpost Kappa Four—well, sort of. I kind of gave up that rank cos someone else deserved it. Tactician for Kappa Four, then. I've only got a few nanokliks here; my twin and I are in Decepticon territory and we need backup ASAP. There's a nasty slagger right on our—" Typhoon frowned as the message dissolved into a variant of Cybertronian he didn't recognize and then faded out. "Seems that 'nasty slagger' stopped the message there. Should we, um, go help the tactician? We don't know how long ago this message was sent. They could already be…"

Baseline paused. "We should go and check on them. If they aren't dead, we gain a tactician and his twin. That could be very useful to us, seeing as you're mentally impaired and I'm useless in battle." Looking at the screen, she strained to listen for other things besides the voices. Static, only static was audible to her. "Even then, stopping for a bit might be of use in order to check on the hull of our ship." Better safe than sorry.

It was a pretty big "if" to go on, but Typhoon was reluctantly willing to go on it anyway. If they did rescue them, there would be profit for the long run. Thus he turned the ship toward Regulon Four, a grungy planet known for quite dangerous creatures. He drew in his vents shakily, briefly shuttering his optics and wiping a hand down his face. _Concentrate on flying, mech, not on what's waiting for you,_ he ordered himself, pushing the mental images out of his processor and guiding the ship into the smoky haze.

Once they landed, he was even less inclined to leave the _Pursuit_ than he'd been on Akalo, but it wasn't possible to come up with an excuse this time. They had to know if the twins had survived. Typhoon certainly hoped they had, not only because he'd hate to have gone through the danger for nothing but because twins were rare for making it past their sparklinghood. As the doors opened and the ramp lowered, he strained his sonar as far as it would reach. "There's…an energon signal, but no heat signature with it, somewhere to the east," he murmured. That meant energon had been spilled.

Baseline was incredibly uncomfortable with the atmosphere this planet gave off. "How far?" Baseline hesitated to ask, following him off the ship. Knowing that a lack of heat meant it was unlikely to find anyone—friend or foe—was extremely disheartening.

"Mm…about two miles," he replied, creeping gingerly down the ramp, optics flicking back and forth nervously. He gripped the handrail tightly enough that his fingertips scratched it as he slid his hand along, his processor still on the chip she had offered him. _That would be nice right about now,_ he thought, though he couldn't replicate whatever nice might feel like. Even with the chip, he had a feeling he would be afraid here. "We can look for other energon signs somewhere else if you want me to do some more scans—" He cut off his own sentence, finials perking up, and aimed his lidar in the complete opposite direction, to the east. "B-Blaster fire, that way, at about three miles!"

"I don't have a vehicle mode. We’ll have to go on foot, unless we would rather fly there?" Baseline suggested, her voice clipped. The atmosphere and unsettling nature of Regulon Four was weighing heavily on her mind. She pulled out her pole.

"Um…" Typhoon weighed his options, pursing his lips. She still had yet to find out he wasn't equipped with a T-cog, so they could fly there, but to get the ship powered up and lifted off again might take too long; whoever the combatants were could already be killed. In fact, they may very well be dying while he was considering. But the metalmongers…"Let's go on foot," he burst out, his programming hating him for his defiance but he was unwilling to waste any more time. "I still hear it, but the shots are fewer. Just one blaster firing now…"

It felt like the longest run of his life, but when they reached the smoking rock formation he briefly checked his chronometer and found only minutes had passed. Not bad for someone of his frame type. He glanced nervously at Baseline, his palms out and scanning for any threat, but the lasers were bouncing through smoke, which made it hard to pick out anything. "There's a mass…a tall, large one, several yards in front of us," he whispered. "It might be a building. More energon too, I think. I can't be sure."

Baseline followed him into hiding. "Well, it seems they aren't dead," she supplemented. Wondering if they should join the fray was another story. "It’s probable we would survive if there aren't very many combatants. Is there anything we can do?" Attempting a hushed tone was something difficult for her normally steady voice

Typhoon frowned, unsure of himself. "I'm not sure…The shots have stopped." Cautiously peering out from behind the formation, he magnified the range of his optics, trying to see through the smoke. "I suppose we could, um, go forward a little and see what that bigger mass is." It was a building, just as he had surmised, but he flinched backward when he nearly stepped in a puddle of energon. "Ew!" he squeaked, bouncing back toward Baseline and rather shamefully hiding behind her arm.

"Whoever it was might have gone inside," he suggested fretfully. "I think we might have to." He really, really didn't want to, but the door on the building was slightly dented outward, which would make it easier to get inside and see what they could find. However, if it was dented outward, that would mean something in there had been attempting to get out, meaning it wouldn't be a nice place. Perhaps whatever had left the energon? Perhaps the twins?

Baseline raised one of her eyebrows slightly. Typhoon hiding behind her…She didn't mind, it was just a reaction she hadn't seen before. Baseline didn't wait to open the door this time. Pulling it open made the hinges creak and the bottom of the door scraped against the rocks, sending a few flying. Baseline hoped to find the twins alive but she knew it would be idiotic to hold out hope on such an abysmal planet.

Typhoon certainly didn't like the looks of what he saw—or what he didn't see. The only light source was a single fluorescent light secured to the ceiling, currently smoking and sputtering as though it had been narrowly missed by some of the blaster fire. Beyond that it was a yawning tunnel of blackness and he impulsively increased the magnification of his optics a few more notches. "I don't like this," he burst out, close enough to the opening that his voice echoed slightly even though it was a whisper. "Baseline, I really don't like this."

Baseline nodded in response to Typhoon’s words; she didn't speak. They should make as little noise as possible. Instead she pointed and jerked her head forward. Her hand was clenched around her pole ready to defend against anyone or anything. This was a place she never wanted to see again.

Typhoon took the hint and remained silent as he crept along behind her. If silence meant they would be discovered later rather than sooner, he was all for it. The hallway came to a crooked fork after several minutes and he glanced at her questioningly before going down the righthand tunnel. There he found another light generator, in better condition than the first. It was humming, but not the safe kind of hum which comforted him on the _Pursuit_ ; it was a drone that made the audials ache. For a bit of relief from that, he briefly flipped off his augmentation and quickened his pace, gesturing for Baseline to hurry and follow him. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a light up ahead. Would it be a lit but empty room or was there someone waiting for them? At the moment he wasn't sure which he might want more.

Baseline followed, taking his lead. The fork presented an odd calculation, but it would be better for them to maintain a close proximity to each other. When Typhoon started walking faster, Baseline followed suit. She hoped that the faster pace meant progress in finding the other Bots, but she dare not ask for fear of being overheard. Baseline rolled her shoulders back. It was a nervous habit she had picked up when under a lot of stress, working hunched over a computer. It had almost become involuntary and if it were not for the squeak of metal on metal she wouldn't have even noticed she had done anything.

Typhoon jumped a little at the squeak from behind him and pressed himself to the wall, letting her go past. If he could see her, he would be less inclined to be startled by the sound of her shoulders. Who knew where she had picked that up? It was one of several times she had done it since she'd come aboard, but now wasn't the time to be doing it. It ran the risk of them being discovered. Taking a few more steps forward, he badly stifled a gasp and snatched at her arm with a near-denting grip, pulling her back from the defense cannons dangling from the walls of the hallway. He tried to get his spark to stop racing when he noticed that they didn't seem to be active. Perhaps whoever had been trying to escape had cut their power supply? Hopefully.

Baseline was terrified. She wanted to run and never come back. This place was so isolated and empty. It would drive anyone mad in a matter of days if no one else was here. His grip didn't hurt her as much as shock her. "What's ahead?" she demanded, trying for a whisper. It wasn't much in volume but it echoed again. _Scrap this place_ , she thought, irritated. _I’d rather be alone or with technology than somewhere I would be scared of my own shadow!_

"C-Cannons," Typhoon hissed. "But I—I think they're damaged or at least they haven't noticed us. Um…you could hit them with your pole maybe, or…if they shoot at us, I could try repelling them, but I've never tried fighting lasers with my soundwaves before." He was sensing something in her EM field, something very familiar. Was she as scared as he was? More so? It was foreign from her, but he had to do something about it. He released and then gingerly patted the area on her arm that he'd grabbed. "We'll figure out something, I—I'm sure." Of course he wasn't, but it was all he could think of to say to be vaguely reassuring.

How did he know she was scared? Baseline didn't understand. She didn't look any different, did she? It was the thought that counted though. Nodding to both the battle plan and the comfort, she took her pole and tossed it. If the cannons worked, they would attack her pole; if not there would be a cacophonous clang. It was the latter. Baseline breathed a sigh of relief, moving from out from the cover of the wall.

Typhoon ex-vented carefully, cautiously sliding around the wall with her and then hesitating, flattening his hands against the wall. "Vibrations. There's someone talking up ahead, about…eighty paces?" He couldn't quite be sure, but his fear was falling just a notch or two at a time. Picking up her pole, he handed it to her and poked his head around the next corner, finding the light brighter than it had been. Hopefully it would be Spotlight talking to his brother, but it wasn't sounding like it.

As they forged on, the light grew brighter and brighter until it hurt the optics. Typhoon squinted, dimming his visor slightly to compensate for that. "I'm hearing three voices," he whispered, almost inaudible. "You?" If there were three voices, that likely meant Spotlight, his twin, and someone else. Either an Autobot had already come to rescue them or, more likely, that third voice was the Decepticon. Would he be as terrifying as Dreadwing? Would he even be a mech?

Baseline steeled herself for what was to come. "Let's go." She would thank him for returning her weapon later. She slowed, walking more cautiously as the voices became more audible for her.

~~~

"You made one of your crude escape attempts again, didn't you, tactician?" the Decepticon crooned, patting his prisoner's shoulder and narrowly avoided a snap of the teeth.

"I'd say so. I was there," the Autobot shot back after the attempt at biting him, cobalt-blue optics cold. "And I don't tend to think my ideas are crude; I would've made it, but it's not like I'm going to leave behind my brother Autobot."

"Oh, I suspect your connections with this one—" He gestured to the blue mech who remained silent nearby. "—run a bit deeper than a mere brand." With those words he lightly tapped the Autobot sigil over the spark chamber, rewarded with a near infinitesimal flinch.

Freezeframe didn't look too well, though the worst of the damage wasn't physical. Interrogations on him had taken a toll. He'd kept silent so far but it wouldn't be long before he broke, especially with the other guessing at their family relationship. He'd do anything to protect Spotlight and he'd done his job so far. Besides it didn't matter if he was a little dinged up; he thought it gave him character. Spotlight didn't need any more damage to his finish.

Spotlight glanced at Freezeframe, nudging him reassuringly through their bond. _~:I expect you not to worry,:~_ he told him sternly. _~:Just keep quiet and let your self-repair systems work.:~_ He was aware of what Freezeframe was doing to make sure he wasn't hurt: reverse-psychology, making the Decepticon focus on him because he was quieter, but Spotlight didn't want him doing that. He was good at being the talker and he wanted to use it to his advantage, even if it meant some injuries. Once they escaped, which he knew they would, damage could be dealt with.

Right now, Spotlight still didn't know where they were on Regulon Four. All he knew was that the places where he'd been shot still hurt, even though it was a low-level blaster. _Recaptured by a low-level,_ he admonished himself, scowling at the thought of it. _Not once, not twice, three times! How embarrassing is that?_

Freezeframe replied to Spotlight with a nod. He would keep doing what he was doing for Spite because he wanted to. He meant everything to Freezeframe and he'd take all the abuse if it would let Spotlight find a way for them to get out of this Pit. Freezeframe let out a sigh, though it sounded more like a grunt.

"Hands off him, Decepticon." He tried to sound brave, but there was a tremble in his voice. His larger frame would shudder every so often and his voice was cracking. This Con had certainly done a number on him.

"Ahh, and the silent one speaks. Hello," Emberdrive exclaimed, smiling thinly. "Trust me, I haven't done anything yet. I've been saving up the nice playthings for last." It wasn't an exaggeration, though he had deeply enjoyed the time he'd spent running electricity through the blue one. He got an inkling that his patient had understood the process of how he did it perfectly. "For our chatty friend…hm, a clamp for the mouth should suffice before we start." He chuckled lightly as the talker started spitting obscenities at him.

Freezeframe grunted again, sitting up and trying to stand. "I will kill you if you so much as scratch him." His words were formed through many hard, effort-filled pauses. He stepped forward at Emberdrive, his optics dark and bleary but seeming to get the general idea of where the Decepticon was. "It’s me you want. He doesn't know anything," he insisted through gritted teeth.

 _~:Stop doing this,:~_ Spotlight shot at his brother sternly. _~:You need to rest; I can handle myself and you know it:~_ Once they got out of this, he would be giving Freezeframe such a hard time for underestimating him, but right now it wasn't on his mind. The Con was grinning widely as Freezeframe struggled to stand. Spotlight cursed again and shouted, "Hey! Let's play a game: you try to put the clamp on me while I try to bite your fraggin' hand off. Rules are you don't do anything else to him, okay? He's just—he's a scientist, I'm a tactician. I know more!" Internally he winced at pulling that card, but it was all he could think of.

Freezeframe glared at Spotlight. He wasn’t underestimating him! _~:Shut up, please. I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't want to hear any whining about your paintjob when we escape. Your looks are important to you and that means it’s important to me.:~_ It was an empty excuse for doing what he was. Shielding Spotlight was the least he could do. Even the tactician eventually had to admit it was the best call. Spotlight needed to find their way of escape, so Freezeframe continued to glare at the Decepticon's form.

"He may know dated plans, but I was always at the core of our group. I know how everyone and everything ticks…But you already knew that." Freezeframe kept moving towards Emberdrive, each step taking an enormous amount of effort. His expression made his thoughts clear: _You fraggin' touch him again and you lose more than that hand Spite threatened to take._

Emberdrive laughed again, glancing between them incredulously. "I've always admired the bond between brothers. If you are what I think you are, more so with twins." His smug smile fell slightly and then brightened again, a bit manic, barely a nanoklik later. "I had a brother once. He died. I'm curious, scientist, if you know how everyone ticks, perhaps you can answer this question. I hear if one twin dies, the other tends to simply…wither away. Do you think that would be the case with you two? How close must I get to killing one of you before the other talks? We can make it a race."

Freezeframe clenched his fists and twisted his mouth into a sneer. The normally easygoing mech was ready to rip Emberdrive's spark out at his words. "If you believe the Decepticon radio chatter, that's not the case. Dreadwing seems pretty well, considering Optimus scrapped his twin." He smiled a little. "I've tuned into the radio chatter from time to time. It's not that hard for me." It wasn't hard, but understanding the chatter was a whole other task entirely. "So you want to talk?" He got into a fighting stance before aiming a bad punch. It was the best he could do until his vision cleared up.

Spotlight hunched his shoulders slightly as he watched Freezeframe turn cold and menacing. He never liked it when that happened, but at least the scientific talk was familiar. He went ramrod straight once more as his brother made a sloppy swing at the Decepticon, who grabbed the throwing arm, swept around him and seized the plating on his opposite hip, heaving him up in midair and then abruptly dropping him, letting him fall to the floor much harder than he would have slammed him.

 _~:Are you okay? Freemz, are you okay?!:~_ Spotlight demanded through the bond at the same time he was shouting, "Stop, don't hurt him anymore; you've done enough damage!"

"Apparently I haven't," the Con replied cheerfully, snatching up a syringe-like object and approaching. "I don't need to kill you to separate you. It's also said twins can block their bond if they're in so much pain, they don't want their other half to feel it. Feel free to scream." Scream he did as the Con pressed the syringe into him. Whatever this substance was, it felt as though it were igniting his energon. "I have the negative agent too," Emberdrive remarked pleasantly. "See, I might just give it to you if you tell me where your commanding officers are hiding. I hear the femme died, but where are the Towersmech and his father-figure? Fishtail and Blowtorch, where are they?"

Freezeframe broke, shuddering at the residual pain and screaming for him to stop, begging for his brother to be allowed safety. _~:I’m sorry!:~_ He refused to be separated from the pain his brother was feeling. He'd caused it after all. "J-just kill us. We won't tell you!" He tried to crawl to Spotlight.

Baseline couldn't listen any longer. This was too much. Not bothering to announce herself, she charged into the room, aiming her pole at the Decepticon’s head. Surprise was the best option. He'd be caught off guard, giving the femme the upper hand.

Freezeframe barely registered the new combatant; all he saw was a flash of orange in his blurry vision.

Typhoon was startled when Baseline abruptly flew into the room ahead of him. "Scrap, scrap, scrap. Baseline!" he cried, rushing after her without thinking and covering his audials to muffle the screaming. There was a blue mech on the floor and a green one secured to a vertical slab against the left wall. That wasn't what Typhoon was paying attention to, however; Baseline had swung her pole at an amber-orange mech in the middle of the room, who reeled as it struck him in the head, but then his hands formed blasters and he opened fire.

Since she'd hit him in the head, his aim was a bit off while his optics recalibrated, thank Primus. Typhoon easily recognized it as one of the blasters he'd heard from far off and he ducked, crawling toward the blue mech on the floor, intercepting him as he tried to reach the green one. "Hi!" he burst out. "Are you Spotlight or his brother?"

Spotlight couldn't see what was going on; he'd shuttered his optics too tightly to pry them open right now with the pain he was in. It was hard to form coherent thoughts, so somehow he had a feeling he wasn't sending any real words to Freezeframe, just impulses. He was close to going into stasis, which he hoped would bring some relief.

Freezeframe continued trying to rise. He couldn’t give up; Spotlight needed him. "Help?" he asked in a word, trying to determine friend or foe.

Baseline dodged quickly to the side, narrowly missing his blasts and swiped at the back of Emberdrive’s knees. It wasn't very sporting of her but she wasn't good at fighting. "Autobots," was Baseline’s answer for Freezeframe. Emberdrive was caught off guard, just as she’d hoped. She could keep him busy.

"Typhoon, just get them out!" she yelled at last, her fear getting the best of her, causing emotions to override her sense of rationality.

Freezeframe strained, his movements even slower than before.

Typhoon lifted the blue one onto his feet, only to release a screech of alarm as Baseline's stroke to the knees knocked Emberdrive onto him. Adrenaline, powered by fear, kept him upright, heaving the Con at the table filled with devices much like what he had been treated to during the NET program. Slamming him onto it with excessive force, he seized a mostly empty syringe and poised it at his neck. "Are you with them?" he hissed, optics wide behind his visor. "Are you with them?!"

Emberdrive certainly hadn't expected Autobot reinforcements. Spotlight must have been able to send a distress call during one of his escape attempts. Relaxing in the Minibot's grip, he smoothed his voice and purred, "I don't believe so. Who exactly are you speaking of?"

"You know," Typhoon spat, shivering hard enough that he was rattling the table slightly. "You know who I mean! You tell me or my hands might get shaky enough to slip and you—well, whatever slagging concoction you made will be a nice treat for you! _Are you with them?!_ " The others in the room didn't matter right now. He had to know if this Con was with them; it would explain so much! He couldn't understand how he would be, but anything was possible when one was paranoid.

Baseline slammed her pole onto Emberdrive’s head with enough force to knock him out. "Typhoon, that’s enough." She gently took his hand, the one holding the syringe. "It’s just allies here and one possibly psychotic—but unconscious—Con," she soothed. "We should kill him. He’ll come after us if we don't but we have enough to deal with, I think. You really should let me build you a chip," she added, trying to coax him back to reality.

"Why did you do that?" Typhoon demanded, dropping the syringe and letting it break. "You—you d-didn't let him answer! He's sure to be…I'm sure he's…" Blinking a few times, he pulled his hand away from her and forcefully turned his attention to the table, snatching up one of the other injectors there and vaguely waving it at her. "You, um, studied energon, right? This could be negative, right?" Sighing deeply, he pressed the other hand to his head. She could be comforting in an odd way, stating the obvious.

Freezeframe finally reached his brother. "Spot, come on…Spot, please yell at me for being an idiot. Please, we need to go," he whimpered, turning his head toward the other two figures.

"You're…an idiot," Spotlight whispered hoarsely, whining as the substance made his head spin. Impulsively he banged the back of his head against the slab he was on, trying to find a pain worse and thus distracting from the acidic sensation through his internals. "H-Happy? Now make— _agh_ —make it stop! Please—"

"I know. Hang on, Spotty." Freezeframe chuckled even as he cringed, his smile pained. He held Spotlight’s hand and yelled at their rescuers again to hurry. "Autobots—you said you were Autobots—please find the negative serum for my brother," he begged.

Baseline shook her head. "No, it isn't that syringe, Typhoon, but I would like to take it with us as a sample. If you wish, you can keep a hold of it." She sifted through the materials, much calmer now. This was her area of expertise and she actually felt pretty good about the unconscious mech at their feet. Granted, Typhoon had that pretty well in hand.

"This is it," she announced, holding up a different injector. "It's clearer and thicker than the rest. It'll probably clear him of his current pain in about twenty kliks." She moved quickly back to them and bent down. "I need you to hold him still, Typhoon. And as for you, I need you to keep your brother awake. This is going to be extremely painful but he cannot be allowed to go into stasis. You got that?" she barked at Freezeframe, who nodded meekly.

Typhoon pressed the sample syringe into subspace and nodded in response to her words, draping himself awkwardly across Spotlight's legs. This would give him some opportunity to focus on something other than what Emberdrive might have been able to tell him. If he was torturing the twins for information, Typhoon had a feeling he could tell him quite a bit.

If he weren't such a danger, Typhoon might suggest they take him along. However, he wasn't sure the rewards would be worth the risk of letting the Decepticon onto his ship. He didn't dare consider having someone like that aboard. _That's what you thought about scientists,_ he reminded himself, laughing a bit hysterically in a pedal tone.

Baseline rolled her shoulders once more before injecting Spotlight with the negative. "I'm sorry," she concluded, understanding that to wash away the effects he needed to be cleansed, but the pain would make sure there was no lasting damage; his nervous system would be firing on all cylinders.

Spotlight felt the change almost immediately; his systems were shifting from massive, hot pain to icy, prickling pain. His fans kicked on high as he gasped, feeling as though he were unable to filter air fast enough. He wanted to scream and kick and cry, but all of the screaming from before had his vocalizer aching. This was just a transfer to a different kind of pain, but in its wake the negation left numbness, relieving each area of his frame one at a time, pulling at the edges of awareness and making him shiver. "Don't call me Spotty…Y'know I hate that…" he slurred, quite belatedly. "Mm…cold…"

Freezeframe shook his head apprehensively. "Oh no, you don’t…Spotty, Spotty! I'll call you that for eternity if you don't stay conscious. I need you, remember? I don't have any witty comebacks! What am I supposed to do if a Con taunts me—stare him away?!" he tried getting Spotlight’s attention with humor and worry.

"You were doing just…just f-fine with comebacks…when you were threatening him," Spotlight murmured sluggishly.

Baseline placed the empty syringe on the table. "Typhoon, can you carry Spot?" She hesitated on the name but didn't think to call him anything else. "I can help the blue one.”

Freezeframe looked up to them gratefully. "We are Spotlight and Freezeframe. Thank you for saving us…" Baseline lifted the blue mech’s frame onto her own.

Typhoon nodded dutifully to his partner, tearing off the cuffs keeping Spotlight secured and quickly catching him as he slid toward the floor. "How did you get captured? Did he take you by surprise?" He glanced toward the Con, half-expecting to see him gone but finding he had remained where he was. Had he moved an inch or two? Typhoon couldn't be sure, but that just gave him initiative to hurry and push Baseline and Freezeframe toward the door, keeping his optics fixed on Emberdrive.

"You and your brother will be okay to go into stasis soon," Baseline promised Freezeframe. "I’ll fix some of your minor breaks. I’m a scientist, not a medic, but I’ve gathered enough to do the job. It may not look aesthetically pleasing though."

Freezeframe nodded. "Hear that, bro? You can get some rest soon. We’ve just got to make it out of here," he piped up.

“Mm-hm…Where're we going…?" His words were stringing together, but as his processor tried to sort out what had been said, he deciphered Baseline’s last words and struggled to pull away, though it was a weak attempt. "N-No…don't want my frame changed…Freemz, don't let her do an'thing—"

"C'mon, don't just let your legs fold underneath you," Typhoon pleaded, heaving him upright. "Like your brother says, we need to go!"

Freezeframe sighed. "Don't worry, Spotlight. If she tries anything, you know I have a gizmo of some sorts to stop her."

Baseline made a grunt. She understood it was the pain, but they wouldn't go out of their way to neglect their needs. "We’re not going to harm you; we’re fellow Autobots. We'll fix you up," she stated again, getting Freezeframe through the first door. "Anything wrong, Typhoon?" she called over her shoulder.

"Um, no," Typhoon answered quickly. "Let's go." He really did hate to leave without answers or some other kind of benefit. Considering, he snatched up the most unrecognizable pieces of technology from the torture table and subspaced them for examination later. Hopefully they wouldn't do him any damage while they were in his subspace, but maybe Baseline could use them for something good.

Spotlight was more reassured by his brother than the femme's words, but both helped in their own way. "Okay. Okay…" Lifting his head, he squinted at the hallway, which looked like it was tilting around them. "I've…come this way b'fore…"

Baseline lead them through the corridors toward the heavy planet's outdoor atmosphere. Freezeframe spent the time trying to keep his brother awake, but both couldn't help but wonder if the Con further inside the building was really unconscious. Just in case, Baseline kept her pole handy.

Emberdrive looked up once the four Autobots were out of sight, sighing lightly and searching for the remote control among his tools. Fortunately the Minibot had missed that during his theft, although he was disappointed to see some of his favorite devices missing. Snatching up the remote, he began typing in a code. Though Spotlight had cut the controls, the cannons in the hallway did have a secondary source of power built into them. If they had yet to get out of range, he could reroute the power and destroy them in one fell swoop. He was sure he could find other members of the twins' team to give up the location of their leaders.

Typhoon still felt restless, particularly because he was behind Baseline and Freezeframe, which meant he and Spotlight would be last to get out. Even though that thought was scary, he froze only because he heard a soft whirring from somewhere behind them. "Frag. D-Don't move," he gasped, the larger mech he was holding responding with a questioning hum. "The cannon sensors…I think they're back online."


	4. Electric Companionship

Baseline tensed up as her audials registered the high-pitched whirring of the cannons behind the four bots. "How do we disable them?" she hissed, trying not to move her jaw too much.

Freezeframe made a slight groan. "Spotlight, don’t move." Trying to emphasize his point to his slightly delirious brother was hard enough and now they couldn't move.

Baseline wondered what the Con’s endgame was. Destroy or capture them? Probably destroy, since they were not supposed to stop and keep walking. She didn’t like her odds either way.

His processor was sending more insistent suggestions for stasis and though he literally ached for it, Spotlight reluctantly silenced them, blinking several times to focus his vision. "I'm not moving…at least I don't think I am. Everythin' else is moving."

Typhoon swallowed hard, focusing words through his throat, which desperately wanted to lock up. "I'm not sure, but—um, I might be able to use sonar to hack them. I could turn them on each other, if I find the right frequency. I think…I'd have to move quickly and you—" He glanced up at Spotlight, who stared blankly back. "You'll slow me down."

Spotlight didn't try to deny it; he was really tired and his reflexes weren't wanting to cooperate. "I'd be willing to just…t' just sit down," he told him, patting the shoulder he was holding for balance and then startling when he heard a high-pitched whine from somewhere behind them.

Baseline swallowed hard. "Drop him, spin around quickly and do what you think will save us." This was not a situation she ever wanted to be in again.

Freezeframe made a slight noise at the prospect of Spotlight being dropped. He figured he’d have to let it go though. Life was better than nothing.

At first Typhoon made no move to do what she said. His fear was nearing its peak, making him completely still, not even cycling air. It was a dizzying sensation rooted in his chest, twisting his spark, but he finally inched back to decent venting and abruptly pried his hands away from the other mech, whirling around.

The cannons almost seemed startled at the movement, on a nanoklik's delay to track him, and he took that time, his sonar screeching until it reached a point the others couldn't hear. The righthand cannon was on a very high frequency and the other was on low. Despite his many vorns of owning this augmentation, he had rarely ever tried generating both at the same time. He fumbled and the leftward weapon fired, earning a yelp from the Minibot as the shot burned his arm slightly. It was a narrow miss and for an instant he considered just throwing himself on the ground and shielding himself, but it was too late to stop now. Mere kliks later, both guns shut down.

Spotlight stared between the cannons and the Minibot, remarking in a pedal tone, "…thought I already disabled those…"

"C'mon," Typhoon urged, pulling him back to his feet and pushing the others along. "Hurry up!"

Freezeframe and Baseline moved along as quickly as they could, straining to move even just a little faster.

It was impressive, the stunt Typhoon just pulled. Baseline couldn’t help but want to analyze his ability. Maybe she would ask him later when they didn’t have to run from some psychotic Con. Freezeframe had no doubt Emberdrive was behind the cannons rebooting themselves.

Emberdrive was even more disappointed when the cannons failed to do their work. He studied them carefully and then peered down the hallway the Autobots had gone. One of them had used frequency to disable them. Very interesting. Worth observing, in fact. He had gauged from where the twins were when he'd captured them that it was likely Fishtail had given them an assignment to send Bots somewhere, likely as reinforcements for someone. Emberdrive wasn't in the mood to take on many more of the enemy force, but he would be content to watch from afar. "Computer, bring down the holo-emitter," he called out, the holographics falling to reveal his true location. "Now please put on our cloak."

They reached the _Pursuit_ soon enough, to Typhoon's relief. There was nothing like home to calm a mech down, though he was slightly uncertain of what the tall mechs would think of it. They weren't really able to stand up straight, due to the low ceiling, but right now they didn't really seem to notice. Typhoon dragged Spotlight to one of the medical berths, awkwardly shoving him onto it and letting him do the rest of the work to lie down. Afterward he raced back to the controls, powering up the ship and steering its nose toward the building where the Con hopefully still was, ready to blast it with the onboard weaponry.

Not just the Con, but the entire building was gone. Typhoon gaped at the ground, but a stirring of dust and smoke, brought on by the lifting of another set of landing gear, obscured the area from his vision.

Baseline closed up the doors and set Freezeframe near Spotlight. She had grabbed her tools on the way to the medical bay and started work immediately. "Tell me your name," she ordered Spotlight as she readied him for stasis.

Freezeframe watched, aching all over. He could wait, but he was thankful she let him stay near his brother. "He really did a number us. Thanks." His voice was softer, wearier.

"Y'know my name," Spotlight muttered, but he told her anyway. "I'm Spotlight. I don't like being called Spot, so…don't get in the habit. Spite sounds classier. And that—" He gestured in Freezeframe's direction with a slight smile. "That's my other half, the idiotic genius."

He realized abruptly that he hadn't yet thanked the femme for rescuing them. Since he wasn't sure how long he would be in stasis, he took this opportunity and squeezed her closest shoulder. "Nice to know other Autobots are here for us, by the way. You and the Culumexian did really well…better than we did." He sobered then, lowering his voice. "Is Freezeframe…gonna be okay? He has to be."

If she said otherwise, if she even looked remotely sad because of the question, he swore he was going to get off this berth and do something to help. He wasn't sure what, but he'd fix him, no matter what it took. It was his job to look after Freezeframe just as it was Freezeframe's job to look after him.

Baseline shook her head. Sadness, anger, happiness, it was all irrelevant for her now that the creeping fear was ebbing away. "I will try to remember not to call you Spot. As for your brother, I have yet to examine him," she explained, not bothering to lie to comfort him. "When you awake, I will make sure he is the first living Bot you see." She felt awkward and didn't exactly know how to deal with the hand that squeezed her shoulder. Signs of affection were not her forte. Baseline looked at Spotlight and tried for a smile but it looked more like grimace.

Freezeframe snickered. Oh, this would be interesting. "I’ll be fine, Spite." He smiled slightly. "Just get your rest."

Baseline nodded. "Feel free to go into stasis when you wish. I’d rather not force a shutdown."

"You'd better be fine," Spotlight threatened, glancing between them meaningfully. "And you'd better be here." With those words he squeezed Baseline's shoulder more tightly and then released it, settling and folding his hands on top of his chest, feeling the reassuring hum under his fingers which told him both halves would be just fine. "I'll look dignified like this, don't you think?" he questioned rhetorically, finally letting himself shut down. His last thought, brief enough that it almost didn't fully compute, was to ask Freezeframe why he'd laughed, but he supposed he would find out when he came back online.

After all of that, Typhoon found it nice to be back in space. The stars were reassuringly bright and all of the ship's systems were functioning normally. This gave him an opportunity to really consider what Baseline had offered him. He knew he wanted to accept a circuit card, but he couldn't feel the hope that ought to come with the thought. He simply felt dread. What if something went wrong? What if it didn't work or did some kind of internal damage to him? What if he died?

Of all things, death was one of his top five fears—but so were scientists. If he were to accept one, he may need to accept the risk of the other. Oh, speaking of internal damage…He pulled each of the Decepticon devices out and laid them on the floor, kneeling down with them in something of a semicircle surrounding him. Who would use these things on any being? "Well, NET, o-obviously," he scorned. "And Decepticons. Don't be idealistic."

Baseline had taken care of Freezeframe, who refused to go into stasis. The two of them walked out to the cockpit to find Typhoon hunched over the stolen tools.

Freezeframe knelt down with a grunt. "Check the tools in case they have a tracker. We don't need that Con following us," he sighed.

Baseline frowned warningly at him. "You really should rest. You have extensive damage all over your protoform."

Freezeframe shrugged. "Oh, I’ll be alright. I really ought to thank you both for everything," he remarked again, glancing at Typhoon with a smile.

"A tracker is just what I was looking for," Typhoon assured him hastily. "You should do what she says. Your protoform needs treating and I think your brother would say the same." He wasn't sure what to think of the new arrivals. They seemed decent enough, but he had only seen them in danger. Were they being overly grateful? Would this turn out to be a trick of some sort? There was only one way to find out. "So what do you and your brother do?" he asked, glancing furtively at Baseline. If anyone would've noticed something amiss, it would be her.

Baseline met Typhoon’s gaze, grateful that he was backing up her suggestions. "If it were me, I would put the tracker inside the tools," she commented nonetheless.

Freezeframe nodded. "I was just about to ask you the same actually. My brother and I were somewhat in charge of an outpost on Cybertron, before the planet went dark. He's a tactician; don't let his party goer's nature fool you. I’m an engineer, though mostly I just tinker. I prefer quiet work to my brother’s parties." He chuckled lightly. Normally he was a mech of few but important words, but this time he felt he owed them more for saving their afts.

Baseline absorbed this information easily enough. "I’m Baseline, a scientist. I work mostly with substances, like energon."

"Typhoon," he said shortly, busy filing away all of the information Freezeframe had given him. It was interesting enough, particularly when he said Spotlight had more to him than what he portrayed. Could that be significant? He wasn't sure. "I hope he doesn't plan on throwing any parties here." Whatever could distract them from keeping sharp ought to be avoided.

"I was a locksmith but now I'm just…an Autobot pilot." He didn't want to share too much, but he wasn't sure just how long the twins would be staying with them. He refocused his attention on the tools, carefully prying open plating. "I like tinkering too," he agreed, somewhat absently. "I've been called a technophile before and I suppose it's true. It's good to hear you're an engineer. Engineers are esteemed among my people. Found any trackers?"

Baseline shook her head. "None. Or at least none that was of the usual sort."

"Well, I think you are a fine warrior as well. How you dealt with that Con was extremely effective," Freezeframe pointed out. "Although I can't help but notice your nervous habits. Especially when she is around." He pointed a finger to Baseline.

Baseline paid no attention—or at least didn’t react—to what Freezeframe was saying as she looked over the tools. All of them were painful, if designed for what she suspected.

Typhoon was made apprehensive by the blunt way Freezeframe said it. He glanced timidly at Baseline and stammered, "I, um…well, we just recently met and one can never be too careful, I think. It's just caution…" His excuses trailed off as he considered. Perhaps it would be better to just confess. If it caught him off guard, so they could see how he reacted to surprises. _Besides, if he's anything like Baseline, it won't surprise him that much,_ he decided, clearing his throat softly.

"I was part of an experiment. I don't know if you've heard of the NET trials, though I hear they happened in other cities, not just Culumex. Everything I do…I act out of fear." He swallowed dryly and snatched up another of the tools, ripping it open with much less care than the others. "Nothing here."

Freezeframe looked sparkbroken. "I am so sorry. Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

Baseline began putting the tools back together. "Well, he’s considering a chip I could build for him. With your help it would have an extremely low chance of failing…12% chance, depending on how good you are," she commented.

Typhoon looked startled at how well he received it and how sad he looked at the prospect of it. He barely even knew him and he cared that much? Was that normal? He knew many builders were aghast at what the Senate and their kind did, but most of them were his own people, not larger frames. It was foreign, but not unwelcome. Half-shrugging, he mumbled, "I'm still thinking. Just give me some time; you haven't even built it yet." He picked up a small sphere among the tools and rolled it between his hands.

With a click it popped open and he gasped, tossing it away from him and allowing several small buttons spill out, though they didn't seem to be connected to anything. As soon as they hit the floor, they began flashing silently. "Are those trackers?" he demanded in alarm of his two companions. "A-Are they bombs?!"

Baseline considered. "I don't know, but we should put the rest away and I’ll open one up. My guess is they're the trackers."

Freezeframe leaned down and squinted at one. "Mmm. I think your femme friend is right. Probably the trackers. They seem too small to have any kind of explosive packed inside. But I would advise against opening one anyways. Throw them out the airlock," he suggested.

Baseline started to reach for one and then flinched, jerking her fingers back. "Wait, don’t touch them! Find something that doesn't conduct electricity to pick them up and then put them back in the case. Hurry, they could fry the ship!" she ordered, swiftly looking around for a cloth of some sorts. “They're trackers, but they send out electrical pulses. Just one is enough to send someone into stasis long enough for retrieval. All of these could take down the ship and us with it."

Typhoon took some large, healthy steps away and snatched up a shammy, demanding, "How can one little tracker send a mech into stasis? That's—that's t-technology worthy of someone working directly for Megatron!" He shook himself upon saying the name. For him, it was like calling upon a curse, just as speaking of Prime was calling on a king. "B-But that Con was by himself, right? He's not in with Megatron's group, is he?"

Gingerly he swept up the trackers, juggling them in the shammy and opening the bay doors, shaking the trackers out. He hurried to use his vibrations to push them further into space; though they couldn't be heard, the sounds could still travel in space.

Though anyone else wouldn't been angry that the trackers had been discovered, Emberdrive grinned. Not only were there other trackers hidden in more obscure places, but the Culumexian ship had just opened its doors. He unfolded his cannon at a leisurely pace, relishing in his cloak. He would be able to blast them point blank—literally.

Baseline swallowed hard. "Freezeframe…there was a button like that in you. I didn't know what it was when I examined you because it wasn't flashing." She felt that creeping fear again. "It’s right next to your spark chamber." Her vents exhaled heavily. "Typhoon, I need you to get this ship going as fast as possible. The signal from the remote would take longer to get here that way. Freezeframe, I'm going to need to open you up again."

Freezeframe nodded, working to hide his panic, and laid down to let her work. If one of those was close to his spark chamber, he knew that meant he would die if it was activated. Emberdrive probably put it there so he could kill them if they successfully escaped.

As quickly as she could, Baseline readied herself and her tools. Panicking wouldn't help the situation and yet she felt her shoulders tense and vents constrict.

Typhoon dove at the controls, shoving them full throttle and closing the doors just before a blast knocked the ship off balance. "What's out there?!" he screeched at no one in particular. "Baseline, be careful!" What she was doing was delicate and if she did something wrong because her hands got jolted, if Freezeframe died…

Frantically he scanned the space surrounding them, crying in dismay, "I don't see anything! There's not a heat signature; what could've caused—oh, Primus!" All that was visible on the screen was the next blast, narrowly missing the same wing they had repaired on Akalo. They couldn't lose that again! He snatched up the controls and wrenched them sideways to dodge.

Though he'd had the opportunity to destroy them, Emberdrive did enjoy toying with them, aiming at their wings and then withdrawing out of sensor range.

As the ship tilted, Spotlight was brought to a rude awakening as he slid and landed on the floor with a sharp clank, yelping and loosely hugging his aching frame. The aches were forgotten, however, when he heard the alarms and felt something…wrong. Something had Freezeframe trying to be calm, almost too calm, but where was he? No one was in sight.

Baseline remained exceptionally still, briefly calculating motions with the physics and formulas she knew. She just hoped Freezeframe wouldn't move. He was doing his best to be a cooperative patient, silently praying Baseline could compensate for the ship.

Baseline carefully slid her scalpel between the button and his chest cavity. She caught the button and slid it out. With another jolt her steady hand slipped, flipping the button out of his chest and slightly scratching the metal. Freezeframe grimaced, but at least she hadn’t come close to the spark. Baseline removed the scalpel and Freezeframe released a sigh of relief as she closed him up.

"Where did the button go?" he asked worriedly.

Baseline put the scalpel away and glanced around. "I’m afraid I don't know."

Spotlight rose from the floor, seizing the berth for balance as the ship shook. "What the frag…?" he said aloud, rebooting his vocalizer several times and making his way out of the med bay. Blinking blearily, he emerged into the hallway, deciding not to shout in favor of messaging. _~:Hope you have a good reason for waking me early and not being there when you did. My recharge percentage is at seventy-three percent,:~_ he sent to Freezeframe, pinwheeling his arms as the pilot steered them strangely.

Typhoon was having trouble keeping the ship straight; something was interfering with the controls. When he overheard Freezeframe's question to Baseline, he threw a horrified look over his shoulder. "You lost the button?! It's messing with the—" It was pure luck that he'd taken his hands off the controls, as electricity surged through them with enough force that he knocked his chair over in a scramble to get away. Somersaulting upright, he cried, "That's it, we're going to die!"

Baseline scrambled to find it. "I'm sorry!" she burst out. Scrap, scrap, scrap, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Freezeframe sensed Spotlight’s message. _~:I was just operated on and almost died. And the Con is attacking our ship but he’s probably cloaked,:~_ he filled him in.

Baseline found the button on the control panel and picked it up with the shammy they had used earlier. "Typhoon, we need you to fly. I’ll get the button out of here." She dashed to the airlock and tossed the button out before shutting the door quickly.

Freezeframe hugged his arms around himself, slightly jittery.

Emberdrive decided to pull back for a while, done playing. Steepling his fingers, he watched the smaller ship intently, ready to follow swiftly and silently. It was about time they led him wherever they wanted to go.

How could Baseline just order him to fly after this? Was she sure it was safe? Typhoon hissed through his teeth and poked the console, relieved to find it didn't shock him, and guided it forward at full speed. After about five minutes' worth of travel, he slowed them. Nothing happened, no blasts from invisible enemies. Now was the opportunity to figure out what was going on, but first he had to calm down. Crawling back onto his chair, he slumped into it and sighed deeply, drawing his knees onto the seat and resting his forehead against them.

"You're not kidding, are you?" Spotlight demanded as greeting, resting a hand against the doorframe leading into the hallway. "Freezeframe! What have we said about risking death when the other twin isn't there?!" His tone was completely serious, almost angry, but the words were ridiculous enough to be some kind of warped humor. Beneath those layers, he was trying to process deep worry. "What did that Con do to you, bro?"

Baseline interrupted before Freezeframe could answer. "There was a tracker designed to kill him in his protoform. There is no reason to be angry at him; I should have removed it the moment I saw it. I take full responsibility." She held up her hands towards Spotlight, placating.

Freezeframe rose and made his way to Typhoon, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "It’s okay; everything’s fine now,” he soothed. “Where are you guys going, by the way?"

"Earth," Typhoon spat miserably, hunching his shoulders further. "But every time we actually get into space, we're shot at, brought down, blown up…Our supplies aren't going to last forever! The energon is going to run low; we may not even make it to Earth!"

Spotlight studied the femme for a klik or two and then smiled slightly. "Well, better late than too late, I suppose." Inclining his head, he added, "I don't think I made very good first impressions, screaming and such. Now you've saved me once and my brother twice, so I'm at your service, ma'am."

He perked up upon hearing Typhoon's words. "Earth, hm? That's convenient, isn't it, Freemz?" Straightening proudly, he explained, "Our commander has given us longstanding orders: to guide any Bots looking for Optimus Prime to his current coordinates."

Baseline was very confused. Ma'am? These pleasantries were highly uncalled for. She had no idea who these two were and yet she was being treated like she had known them all their lives.

Freezeframe nodded in answer to Spotlight’s words. "That’s true enough. Let’s go to Earth. We should just barely make it. Either way we could get within range and radio for help."

Baseline stared at him, not understanding what angle he was playing. "I have no services needed…Aside from our need for mechs who can fight. Neither of you are in a condition to do so at the moment."

"But we'll be fine," Spotlight insisted. "And scrap, yes, we can fight!" He mimed a punch or two and then half-smiled, half-winced. "Heh, I guess you're right. But we'll be fine soon, if you're okay with us joining you. It is our job."

Typhoon fretted for a minute or two, fidgeting. With their crew doubled, the energon would dwindle faster, but it would be easier to survive all of the other dangerous aspects of the trip with fighters with them. "I...suppose it would be beneficial," he admitted. "But tell me, how did the Decepticon capture you?" He had yet to hear the story and he had to make absolutely sure they weren't undercover among the Autobots.

Like a flipped switch, Spotlight's smile darkened. "We were in the pod Freezeframe built—he spent diuns building it, by the way; it was a thing of beauty—and he intercepted us. I remember him now; Emberdrive, he was after us back when we still had a base on Cybertron! Vorns ago… But needless to say we were outgunned and once he got us in stasis cuffs on his ship, he destroyed the pod. Scrap, that fragged Freezeframe off," he concluded, nudging his brother sympathetically. "I think that's why Emberdrive started on him first."

Freezeframe looked at the ground. "Yeah…" The agreement was despondent. He couldn’t admit what had actually occurred. Around halfway through the interrogation, he had figured out what made Emberdrive tick and made a deal with the devil, when Spotlight had made another escape attempt and couldn’t hear.

Before Emberdrive had pursued, Freezeframe had called after him with his terms: he could sadistically torture him anyway he wanted, as long as he didn't hurt Spotlight. No doubt that was when he began suspecting they were twins and plotted how to get the information out of them once he got bored. Freezeframe hadn't seen that coming and now the pain of the realization seared his spark.

"I see,” Baseline mused. “Typhoon, I still don't fully trust them, but the massive damage they suffered and the Con chasing them would suggest these two are who they say. Besides I heard there was a pair of twins like these two when I consulted Netrunner, the information broker who brought me to you, Typhoon. He was chatty about information that I didn't need and yet it…came in handy." Briefly she wondered how he had managed that foresight and then moved on. "Anyway, I would recommend trusting them a little."

Freezeframe chuckled weakly. "Well, that's certainly unexpected. Thanks for the vote of confidence." He was pleased to hear that they got just a little recognition for their achievements. No doubt that stroked Spite's ego.

Spotlight noticed the mournful look on Freezeframe's face and nudged him again, questioning _~:You gonna be alright?:~_ Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Freezeframe receive treatment for his injuries, though Baseline had said she'd examined him—and missed the tracker. Maybe that proved he needed to be checked on again. They'd both been put through the roller and Freezeframe was always sad when one of his creations was damaged, much less destroyed like the pod.

It was nice to see him brighten enough to snark a little and, though he didn't know what Freezeframe was thinking, he felt the emotions behind it and shoved him, uncaring that he didn't know what that smug all-knowingness was for.

Typhoon nodded consent to Baseline's words, though he was a bit worried that the information broker knew enough about him to track him down and call him to pick up Baseline. Maybe he needed to withdraw further into the shadows than he already had, though that might end in no one knowing who he was at all. He'd always had a tendency to overreact, even before NET.

Baseline turned her attention to Spotlight, requesting flippantly, "Would you mind taking your brother and putting him in stasis? He refused to go before."

Freezeframe fumed. "Hey, I needed to make sure you weren't fake allies."

Baseline sighed "As you wish, but I must insist you go into stasis so I can finish helping you heal. When you wake, we'll tell you our story."

Huffing, Freezeframe moved closer to Spotlight, conceding, "Alright, alright."

Baseline needed to talk to Typhoon about their guests anyway. It was imperative she knew what their plan was from here.

Spotlight nodded resolutely, snatching at Freezeframe's elbow and steering him down the hall. "What's this about refusing? I got my rest, but it won't do me much good if my other half is recharge-deprived!" About halfway down the hall, at the turn toward the medical bay, he paused, impulsively hugging him. "I'm glad you're okay," he mumbled. "I know you can pull creativity out of your afterburners sometimes, but Emberdrive could've done you a lot of damage. Just…yeah. Um…let's go."

Freezeframe held on to his brother longer, keeping him close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you got hurt. I tried to keep him away from you," he whispered, unable to hold back his worry and fear anymore. "I'm so glad you weren't hurt worse."

If asked, Spotlight would definitely say he was surprised that Freezeframe was talking like this. Normally he was blunt, a bit emotionally scattered, and absentminded. Now he was sensing something too similar to what he was feeling. "Hey," he said firmly. "Don't blame yourself. It was my fault. I opened my big mouth cos I wanted to and that's why he hurt me, okay? It wasn't you. And I'm just fine. You did a good job."

Freezeframe nodded jerkily but gripped him tighter all the same. "I love you so much and he promised he wouldn’t touch you. B-But he lied. I should’ve known!" Freezeframe sobbed softly. "And you still got hurt."

Spotlight gripped Freezeframe's shoulders, pushing him back slightly. "What are you talking about?" he asked in disbelief. "He never said anything like that; he never would unless—" His optics widened slightly and then narrowed, brightening simultaneously. "Freezeframe. Don't fraggin' tell me you made a deal with that Pit-spawn," he snarled.

The truth was obvious as Freezeframe sobbed harder and Spotlight shook him several times before crushing him in another hug, hissing, "I'm gonna hug you because you're my brother and you're crying and you'd do the same for me, and then I'm gonna do my very best not to fraggin' rip you a new one! Cos I love you too and I can't believe you would pull a stunt like that! You know what hurts? Knowing you did that, _that_ hurts!" So saying, he pushed him away and began pacing, leaving the bond unhindered so Freezeframe could feel his anger.

It hurt that Spotlight felt so angry at him and make him cry harder. "I-I'm sorry. I love you too much to let you get hurt. I couldn't! He—he said he would _spare_ you," he choked out. "And it would buy you more time s-so we could escape. I’d do anything to keep you from hurting. And I'm fine a-and you're alive and—" His ramblings became more and more incoherent.

"I know you're sorry," Spotlight snapped, still pacing. "But you're not fine! You could've died, you said so yourself! And that never would've happened if you hadn't given yourself up to him!" Pressing his hands to his face, he continued, "If we weren't twins, you could play around with your spark all you wanted, but when you just…" Growling, he stopped and squeezed the back of Freezeframe's neck, pulling their foreheads together. "That's my other half you're messing with," he whispered. "You can't just…You may've come online a nanoklik or so ahead of me, I may be the younger twin, but that doesn't mean I'm weaker. I can take a little hurt but you need to fraggin' _let_ me. There's only so much you can take!"

Freezeframe crumpled, bawling, "T-That’s why I submitted. You are so much stronger than me. I just couldn't live without you. I know you could. H-he was right. I would wither away without you. B-But I made myself valuable, h-he couldn't kill me. H-He just liked to hurt us!"

"Now don't you do that!" Spotlight commanded harshly even as his own optics welled and he steered his back into the wall. "You think you can do that and get away with it? Don’t! You think he couldn't kill you? He could and don't you dare pretend I could get on without you! How do you know what I can or can't do?! If you think I could get on without you then you don't know anything! Nothing!" He badly stifled a sob, furiously rubbing at his optics, and then shook his head. "I can't believe you. I can't…You said you'd do anything to stop me hurting—and then you go and do this. Well, make up your tricursed processor! Do you want me to trust you or not?!" This was breaking his spark. Maybe he was being too harsh, but right now he was too angry to think straight.

Freezeframe looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I-I want you to trust me." He shared his feelings of sorrow through their bond, how much he cared, how sorry he was, and that all he ever wanted was to keep him safe. Wordlessly he tried to reassure him that he may be horribly battered but inside he was okay. "You are the only thing in the world that matters to me. And I am sorry, so sorry."

Spotlight let himself feel Freezeframe's sadness as it came to him and he drew in his vents. "Do you know what it's like when you're scared to see yourself? Do you…do you know what it's like to wish you were someone else, who didn't need your help to get by? I don't want to be what makes you like this," he pleaded. "I don't wanna feel like this tomorrow. I'm just—" He swallowed hard, backing up until he hit the opposite wall. "I'm like an enemy to you and I don't want to be. I make you do stupid things like this and I don't know how to stop. So…what? What'll make you stop?" He had to be sure Freezeframe knew how serious this was. "W-Would blocking the bond for a while—just a little while—be what we need?"

Just what they both needed, Freezeframe thought despairingly, time alone with their broken half-sparks.

Meanwhile, there was a less prickly atmosphere. Typhoon looked up at Baseline questioningly, sensing she had something to ask him. It was likely to be a worry for the future; maybe he was rubbing off on her a bit too much.

Baseline sat down next to Typhoon. "We’re running out of energon,” she stated. “Do we have to make one more stop or can we make it to Earth?"

Typhoon began wringing his hands, his vents hitching. "We'll need to make one more stop. With the number of consumers just doubling, it's a good idea to stock up as much as we can. There's a planet called Athenia, an Autobot colony was established there two vorns or so ago. It would be a good place to restock. Some unfortunate things happened when they were setting it up—I hear Optimus Prime's medic was shot in the back by Megatron during an evacuation of a wounded Bot!—but they all pulled through anyway. It's a tough colony, sure to be safe." It might be nice to be among other Autobots for a while too.

Baseline nodded thoughtfully. "That’s good; I am pleased to hear that. I prefer to know the planet will be more of a relaxed pit stop than a struggle between life and joining the Allspark."

Typhoon forced a laugh, nodding vigorously. "And maybe…um, maybe it would give you time to work on that chip." The words were out of his mouth almost before he'd considered speaking them, but they seemed right once he had. Maybe it was time to start trusting them more. Baseline had proved she was loyal and with Freezeframe's help, she might get it done faster. Having full range of emotion would feel…nice, he surmised. What else could it feel like?

Baseline was surprised but extremely pleased. "I'll start work right away." She grabbed her tools and hardware and started working furiously on the chip.

Putting on the autopilot, Typhoon watched her start the work, intrigued but a bit apprehensive about it. This was going to be good. If she finished it by the time they reached Athenia, maybe he could test it out among fellow Autobots instead of being distracted by it in the middle of space or in a battle. It would be the best testing ground. He may have imagined it, but there was some phantom reassurance when he considered it that way.

Baseline could talk and work, even though it was not her preferred setting. "The base is a normal card; it won't do anything to your processors. If you need me to test it on myself, I will, just so you feel at ease. After I enter the base coding, Freezeframe can fine-tune it for us. I'll supervise to make sure there is no tampering." Calmly she plugged the chip into the ship. "I apologize; I'll only need the corner of the screen."

Typhoon kept his optics fixed on the screen, making sure there were no glitches or static caused by the chip's installment. "Th-That sounds good," he admitted. "Thank you." He stayed silent for a minute and then sighed. "Wow, just the thought of this is making my internals quivery. Can you, um…describe what they're like? Emotions? Good ones, I mean. They…physically, how do they feel?" It was a very awkward question and he felt stupid asking it, but it was the only way to word it.

Baseline raised an eyebrow. "You think _I_ would know? That's interesting. Well, the good ones…they feel like tingles that flutter through your nervous system. However, they're actually just other elements coursing through your biology," she explained. "Also it’s really no trouble for me to make this. I've been itching to work."

Typhoon digested this information slowly, nodding. "Well, you'd know better than I would, I think. At least you can describe them." He spun the chair around slowly and checked on their progress. At this pace they would get there in about a quintun and a half, which was decent. If he was remembering correctly…"What do you think of the Galactic Olympics? They’re held on Athenia. Have you ever watched them?" he asked abruptly. Frankly he found them…well, frightening. Injuries were all too easy to get during those sports.

"No, I’ve never watched them. I think they are shows of bravado and have no intellectual content," Baseline easily shut down that area of conversation. "That’s one of the reasons Wheeljack is mildly unappealing company. He's all revenge and metal muscle. Typhoon, you are different. Your company is tolerable and you are inquisitive, which is a good thing. You're a good person." She managed a smile at her…what was he to her? A good companion…Maybe even a real friend.


	5. Walls and Bridges

"W-Would blocking the bond for a while—just a little while—be what we need?"

Freezeframe was silent. He couldn’t answer Spotlight’s question because he knew he would do it again and again. He would save his brother. Frag the universe, let it die like their old planet, as long as he had his brother. But…maybe blocking the bond would be the best thing for now. He could let Spotlight grow on his own and maybe he would get talking to the femme. Maybe. "Sure…but only for a few quintuns," he sighed, drying his optics.

Spotlight hadn't been expecting him to actually agree to it. A few quintuns…He wasn't sure he would keep his cool through that, but if it kept Freezeframe safe from himself, it would be worth it. "Alright. Thanks," he murmured without feeling thankful at all. Cautiously he worked on setting up a wall between them—just a thin one for now, but a wall nonetheless. It made a tightness in his chest that tried to erase any good the stasis had done him. Speaking of stasis…"C'mon, you need to rest. Crying always tires a mech out," he mumbled, gesturing for Freezeframe to follow him to the med bay.

Freezeframe nodded, following him. _~:I love you.:~_ He sent that emotion through the last crack before the wall was finished. He let Spotlight lead him to the medical bay and curled tightly into himself on the berth Spotlight had used previously, falling into stasis. His self-repair systems would be able to work better now.

Spotlight watched as Freezeframe's optics darkened and then he sank down in a chair nearby, burying his face in his hands. _~:I love you too,:~_ he whispered, but it simply bounced right back at him. The wall was doing its job, sickeningly well, and he had never been so miserable about it. Maybe this was the wrong choice. Maybe he should just accept who Freezeframe would always be: a protector. But then it would seem like he was going back on his word. _You've had it up five minutes and you're already regretting it,_ he chided himself, whimpering softly. He'd better go back to the others and find out where they were going.

Typhoon blinked a few times at Baseline’s words, surprised. He had rarely heard his fear be described as “inquisitive” or “good.” Did she mean that? "Thank you,” he ventured at last. “You're tolerable too." It seemed the best sort of compliment he could give her, which was almost funny but also a bit sad. What had happened to make her think emotions were just sensations? Was it the loss of her lab? Had it been that important to her? He wasn't sure.

Baseline never really got in touch with her emotions. She was based about facts and science. Emotions were not needed in her field. "Thank you,” she echoed, pausing a klik afterward. “I never really understood why emotions were important to people or why they liked them so much. They’re far too confusing and cause quite a lot of pain. At least, that’s what I have observed in others."

Typhoon fidgeted a little more. "Well, I was happy when I had the capacity for it—I think. It's hard to remember now, but it was…" He pursed his lips, shuttering his optics and trying to articulate his point. "It was important. Emotions are important." He didn't want to be panicking to get what he was saying across, but he spit it out more quickly than he had the other words. "When scientists don't value emotions, it results in NET, even if they—if they never signed the contract. I'm what comes of trying to t-take out emotions. And my life? _That's_ what's confusing."

"There’s a difference,” Baseline cautioned. “I value life and observation of the living. I do not believe in tampering with organisms. My emotions have never really been needed so they haven’t been developed. Even so, what those scientists did to you with the NET experiments, that was wrong, to say the least about your situation." Baseline sighed and stopped working to look at him. "I know I have emotions but they seem buried, like they are covered by something. What, I do not know. I am sorry I come off emotionless and cold…I do value your life and company, as I value _all_ life."

"That cover…that I can understand," Typhoon sympathized, glancing between her and the floor between them. "Everything but fear is covered for me. I, um, noticed that you seemed scared too, when we were in Emberdrive's place. I don't want t-to make assumptions—assumptions are dangerous—but were you really scared like I was? It was all over your EM field a-and that's how I know you aren't emotionless." He blinked several times and murmured, "A lot of people think NET experiments are emotionless. They call us drones, automatons…sparkless. I've been treated to it all and you—you're not any of those, I don't think, cos you value life." He gulped and shifted his weight around anxiously, wondering if he'd said too much.

"I didn’t realize you could read my emotions so easily. But...yes, I was terrified. I don’t like places that make me feel confined and hopeless. It was like that when I went through the wreckage of my lab. Luckily all my work is backed up in my memory banks. I had them made especially for keeping that data, so no one could steal my work or destroy it," she confessed, rolling her shoulders nervously.

Typhoon half-flinched, half-shrugged. "Not all emotions, just a few. I recognize anxiety, terror, and sometimes, if I'm lucky, guilt." As the doors from the hallway slid open, he laid optics on Spotlight and concluded in concern, "Like that." Come to think of it, it had taken quite a while for the green mech to come back. What had taken so long? He looked…haggard. "Are you okay?"

How in the Pit could he answer that? Spotlight huffed humorlessly and shrugged. "Fine. Freezeframe's in stasis." That was all he was going to say on the matter; he was going to stay calm and collected. He had to for both their sakes, or Freezeframe would panic about his wellbeing, tear down the wall and "rescue" him all over again. Wandering toward Baseline, he leaned over her shoulder and questioned, "What's the circuit card for?"

Baseline jerked her head towards Typhoon as an answer. "To stabilize his mood," she explained, resuming her coding. "What are your plans when we reach Optimus Prime? Do you plan to leave and find others or are you going to stay?"

"I don't know," Spotlight admitted. "We've never actually been to Earth; we've simply directed Bots there and since our pod was destroyed, we won't exactly have a way off the planet. Do you think Prime would accept another two Bots?" He laughed slightly and then sighed. "We've hopped around at least a dozen Autobot bases because apparently we cause trouble. Prime may not want that."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll accept you," Typhoon assured him, taking on a reverent tone. Awe was a form of fear and, oh, Primus' mortal king was to be feared. Typhoon had never seen him in person, but he'd longed to since he was a sparkling. Of course the others didn't know this, so he didn't say anything else. _If he accepts them…he's sure to accept me, isn't he?_ he wondered, quivering internally. This was as close as he got to excitement for now, but it was enough.

Baseline shrugged. "Well, considering that Optimus Prime is on Earth, I’m sure the Decepticon warship is too. In that case, they would need all the help they can get." She looked over her shoulder at Spotlight. "I’m sure you can make yourself useful." Turning back to her work, she continued, "A warrior or an energon scout is, I expect, the most needed. Any idea who else is on Earth?"

Spotlight considered with a thoughtful frown. "Well, most Bots we directed there didn't make it. We would check with our sources and along any communications lines we had. Some Bots refused to go, since they've gotten content with surviving on their own. Most of those types are the Wreckers. We met a Bot named Seaspray who seemed reluctant to go to Earth. He was looking for his pace, he said. They got scattered during the Exodus, like many others. And a lot of the ones we talked to were headed to Athenia for refueling."

"Just as we are," Typhoon reminded him. "Maybe after some significant background checking, we could re-convince them about joining."

Baseline shook her head. "The ship is almost too small for the four of us. I don't recommend adding any more than two Bots if need be. The energon supplies will dwindle and the medical tools…If I am to fix you all up, I prefer having two injured at most. I am not a medic. I am a scientist with basic medical knowledge."

"I—I just meant in their own ships," Typhoon assured her. "Of course I wouldn't want them on board _my_ vessel! Who knows what damage they could inflict on it?!" It sounded foolish once he said it, but it was honest and Typhoon knew most Bots appreciated honesty. Speaking of which—"Athenia isn't too far. We'll be there in perhaps two and a half quintuns and after that, it's a short few diuns to Earth. Hopefully we can survive that." He startled slightly as a suggestion for recharge popped up, warning him that not only his recharge level but his energy level were steadily inching lower.

He calculated thoroughly and concluded the last time he'd actually gone to his berth had been before Baseline arrived, but it wasn't too surprising. He often went orns on a few minutes of recharge or none at all, but he knew Baseline might have an adverse reaction if he told her that. "I've left the ship on autopilot," he announced abruptly. "I'm gonna go rest. Hopefully I can leave the ship in your care without getting killed…?" It was a legitimate question; Baseline herself had said she wasn't a pilot and Spotlight had said he was trouble. So he asked bluntly, as she should've.

"Everything should be fine," Baseline assured him. "Sill you be keeping me company, Spotlight? I wouldn’t mind if you did. But…if you touch the controls, I will have to restrain you and possibly interrogate you. I wouldn’t recommend that option."

Spotlight half-shrugged and mustered up a grin, a bit amused even though he knew she was being completely serious. "Sure thing! I'll be nice and quiet; you'll hardly know I'm here." Sitting primly in the pilot seat, he pointedly turned it away from the controls and leaned his chin on one hand. "So come to think of it, you never told me your name. You may have told Freezeframe, but he's…not telling me."

Typhoon looked between the two and shook his head. Somehow he doubted Spotlight was going to be quiet, though he could be as nice as he wanted. With a quiet sigh, he made his way to the berthrooms and huddled underneath his thermal tarp, really hoping to try for rest but instead keeping an audial open in case there were any explosions or screams.

"Actually, Spotlight, because I do not know you and this is war I would prefer if you told me about yourself," Baseline commented, typing furiously and trying to finish the first part of four major junctions. She was a genius in her own right. Coding, while imperfect, could be done quickly and efficiently. "I am Baseline."

"Nice to meet you," he chirped. "I'm Spotlight, like I said before. Hmm…I'm a whole range of things. I'm a tactician for war, for parties, whatever. I like planning get-togethers, y'know? Just having fun with people I like. Heh, I try to get Freezeframe interested in parties and such, but he'd much rather be in a quiet corner, tinkering."

He sobered for a few kliks, announcing, "Family's everything in war, at least for us. My brother...he means the world to me, any world." Smiling crookedly, he added, "But don't tell him I said that! Let me see…I like music and I'm told I have a good voice for it, almost worthy of a Harmonexian! That's saying something; I have bragging rights because of that. Did you ever hear them sing? That's one of my hobbies." He paused, letting her digest this information, and then commented, "And I see coding is one of yours. It's nice of you to do that for him. Are you good friends?"

Baseline tsked. When she said she would rather him talk, she might have been mistaken. This mech talked quite a bit, enough that she actually stopped typing to process the information. "I haven't heard them sing. I don't listen to music." There was a pause where Baseline expected him to burst into song then and there, but fortunately he refrained. "As for friends, I’m not too sure. I suppose. Three near-death experiences in less than three diuns make two people more trusting of each other." Baseline thought back to Dreadwing and Typhoon’s reaction to him. "He’s quite impressive and would be more so if unhampered by his largely panicked moods. Although, in this stage of war, paranoia is good to an extent."

Spotlight nodded thoughtfully. "I haven't really seen him in action, at least not with my processor clear, but I'll take your word for it. Impressive is a big compliment from a scientist. So what do you think?" he questioned with a charming smile. "I may not be paranoid, but I'm smart enough to see a skeptic. I noticed you didn't say anything in response to my little autobiography. Am I impressive or is your lack of comments a sign that you're bored?" He chuckled, gesturing around them. "Point me to the kitchen and I can make something fun. Cooking is something else I've dabbled in; you have to so you can be a good host! Since our host is off largely panicking in his berth, I can adopt the role."

Baseline shook her head. "‘Impressive’ is a term I prefer to save for people I know. Typhoon has not only proven himself in battle, but as a pilot, as somebody who is intelligent, and…as a friend." Baseline hesitated. That wasn’t anything she said often. “Friend” wasn't something she called many. "I’m not bored; I have yet to gather data on you to make an opinion. As for the kitchen, I think it’s to your left somewhere. And Typhoon hasn't recharged since I got here, come to think of it, so I doubt he is panicking, it is more likely he is recharging," she defended the Minibot.

Spotlight chuckled again, spinning the chair, and then waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not insulting the mech; I'm just forming an opinion from the data I've gathered! He's tightly wound, which is why you're making that circuit card for him, and you can't argue with that. No need to get defensive. Maybe he hasn't recharged since you got here for a reason." Grinning wolfishly, he tilted his head at her, processor caught up in his own theories.

It was interesting how quickly she came to his defense and how she hesitated before saying "friend"…

His inquisitive nature was making Baseline uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat. "Opinions used as data to form opinions make the opinions irrelevant and more likely to be wrong." She retreated further back into her processor, using logic and reasoning to avoid him seeing into her further. It felt like he was prying her apart to look into her spark.

"As for Typhoon’s lack of recharge,” she added hastily, “I already knew it was because of my occupation. I did not want to push the issue with him." Baseline was still trying to figure out what exactly she was supposed to do as someone’s friend. She had forged this bond with Typhoon out of need and yet he had become someone she trusted with her safety. Maybe it went both ways.

Spinning the chair the other way, Spotlight continued, "Ahh, I'm not using opinions as data, I'm using data to _make_ opinions! Essentially it's a theory, right? That's what Freezeframe calls them, that's what I was told to call them when I was being trained in my job." He stopped, stood, and readjusted so he was sitting backwards, hugging the chair so he could rest his chin on its back. "Your occupation, hm? Are you sure it's not just who you are that keeps him up at night? I mean that in a perfectly good way because…well, it's obvious."

Maybe that was partially why, from what she was saying, Typhoon's anxiety had gotten worse since her arrival. Sure, her occupation may have something to do with it, but there were other theories that could easily help the jitters along too.

Baseline frowned through a moment of silence. There was no typing, simply thinking. "You mean my distance to emotions. Yes, that would be a factor. As for your theory, I would not use my words as factual evidence; they are my claims, as the evidence for them is in my memory. Otherwise you are right. By the way, your actions and words as you try to dissect me are making me extremely uncomfortable and are causing me to stumble in my work."

She then deleted five lines of code and saved the file before extracting the disc. "Now you may continue. As discomforted I am, it’s not important. You wish to know about me and I will tell you. I’m a scientist, I work mostly with energon, I cannot fight, I prefer facts to emotions and I rarely call others my friends. I haven’t _ever_ called someone a friend, actually. I was always distant emotionally and that hasn't changed. I choose not to go to parties and music interferes with my work, so I don’t listen to it. I find it hard to talk to others and awkward when they try to learn about me, because there isn’t much to tell," she stated, giving him a deadpanned face, though her backstrut was tingling and she was on edge.

Spotlight's smile faltered for a nanoklik and then returned to full brightness. "See, I was just trying to make conversation and you finally reciprocated. Thank you very much!" On that note he rose, adding, "Sorry for interrupting your work. I'll suggest, though, that I've found music to be really helpful when I'm trying to think, if it's peaceful. The Empyrian Suite, for example, is very relaxing. You should try it! Maybe your friend can teach you how to dance! I've heard Culumexians are surprisingly acrobatic, though I've never been to one of their shows. If you ask, you might find some maneuvers for fighting at the same time!"

He was suppressing quite a good amount of giggling behind his ever-widening smile and he spun gracefully, tipping a salute to her and heading down the hall. He could choose between seeking out the kitchen, checking on his brother, or probing Typhoon about how great his interest was. He decided to be a troublemaker.

Confused and miffed, Baseline stood. She had just realized she hadn’t learned very much about him and he now knew quite a bit about her. Following him, Baseline countered, "While you artfully turned the conversation around and made it about me, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do that again. So, if you would, who are you and why?"

"Let me see. Partygoer, party-planner, singer, cook, tactician, Autobot, twin…" Spotlight paused. "I think I've covered everything—oh, wait! I haven't adopted an Earth-based alt. mode yet, since I haven't been there. Right now I—" He laughed hesitantly. "I don't really have an alt. mode. Twins were a tricky thing for the caste system; since we were technically part of each other, we couldn't be assigned different alt. modes, so we couldn't be properly placed. If I turned into something high-caste and my brother turned into something medium-caste, what were they gonna do? They couldn't pull us apart, could they? That would be noticed, especially with _our_ creators."

He shook his head fondly at the thought of them and then glanced at her. "Now _why_ I am what I am…that's a good question. I am because…I am. I don't know why; Freezeframe knows the engineering of it. It's cos of my spark, I guess, although…" He paused, his optics dimming just slightly. "…that can be tricky too. Just like Typhoon's. He's a tricky one, I gather, but don't worry. Once he has your gift, you'll get along just fine." He winked rather obnoxiously and rapped on the frame of Typhoon's door. A little more loss of recharge surely wouldn't hurt him if it was for a good cause like his relationships. They were going to be on this ship for diuns, after all!

Baseline opened her mouth to protest that Typhoon needed his recharge, but decided not to interfere with whatever Spotlight had planned. She left to check on Freezeframe, her processor whirling. While he seemed very open, Spotlight wasn’t telling her something. She didn't quite understand what. Maybe she needed rest, maybe she was going crazy, or maybe she had adopted some of Typhoon's panic. All she knew was that she was tense and Spotlight puzzled her greatly.

Freezeframe was healing nicely. There wasn’t much to do so she went back to her chip and tried to work. Unfortunately it was slow going; Spotlight’s words kept returning to her and interfering with her trains of thought.

Typhoon had tried. He'd really, really tried and he'd managed to drowse a few times but mostly, he had just been lying awake agonizing about what could possibly go wrong while he wasn't there to ensure their safety. This was why he startled so badly when he heard a sharp knock from outside. Kicking off his tarp, he unlocked the door, squinted in the blinding light, and demanded, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Hey!" Spotlight greeted him cheerfully. "How are you feeling? A little better? I was thinking you should have a nice refuel. Maybe Baseline would join you; she's been working hard on your chip and she deserves a break."

Typhoon blinked a few times and snapped his visor over his optics, slumping against the doorframe. "Umm…okay. I guess I could go for a cube." He was a bit taken aback when Spotlight smiled sweetly and grabbed his arm.

"C'mon, then! No time to waste! It'll be a nice treat for her."

"What in the Pit are you doing…?" Typhoon mumbled unheard as he was pulled away from his room with his recharge percentage barely better than before.

Baseline had finished the first junction and was halfway through the second, but she was distracted—not just by Spotlight. She looked out the fore window of the ship. There was nothing there, obviously, but she had a constant, nagging feeling that something or someone unfriendly was watching them…That thought alone was unnerving.

At Spotlight's frankly disturbing gestures urging him toward the femme, Typhoon approached Baseline. "How's it going?" he ventured, hugging his arms around himself. "Any good progress?" He knew he couldn't expect miracles, but he wasn't going to resist asking. Now that he'd spent some time on something other than watching her, he felt inclined to make sure everything was going according to plan, though he didn't know the specifics of what that plan was. It made him want to poke and prod at the card she was making, tinkering with how it worked, but then he recalled what Spotlight had said. "Do you need a break? You look a little tense." The "like I probably do" was implied and he huffed softly, more a relaxing of his eyebrows than a laugh, but it was what he felt up for right now.

"I think I will take a break,” Baseline conceded. “I have finished half of the card’s coding. Freezeframe can finish it and then one of us can get it installed. It shouldn't take too long. Biomechanics and coding are something I am extremely proficient in. It’s just a matter of taking and applying various data from my previous experiments." If Freezeframe's corrections weren't too extensive, his card would be finished in mere orns.

Standing, she looked at Typhoon and requested abruptly, "Would you mind running the ship through some evasive maneuvers? I’m not sure but I can’t help but feel watched. It could be just me but it would probably greatly ease the paranoia we share."

Typhoon nodded vigorous agreement and lunged for the controls. "Of course, of course." Great, now he was feeling guilty for making Baseline paranoid. She'd said she didn't often trust others and he was just making it worse. He didn't want her scared, not when she was on his ship.

"But if we are being watched, I think they'll find it hard to get in here," he soothed weakly as he twisted the controls almost completely horizontal. "I plan on setting more traps that can be accessed even when the controls are down. For now, I have the locks on a random coding algorithm, so they can't be hacked. That'll have to do, I suppose, b-but we can still be careful. I'm glad you're thinking of things like evasive maneuvers…"

He quickly snapped his mouth shut when he realized he was rambling and he wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Spotlight looking toward the ceiling, as though praying for patience. Whatever the green twin had sent him to do, he was probably failing. He dreaded failure, so he started up again. "Drinks…What do you like? I have low-grade if you like yours bland and elite high-grade, but just a little of the latter. It's lovely to the sensory net but dangerous to my people if we have too much. If you want some, I don't think it'll hurt you. I have barium, rhodium, and aluminum for seasoning…I hope you like those."

"I don't have much experience with this variety of choices. The bland low-grade would be fine," Baseline answered, watching Typhoon work. Now that Spotlight mentioned it, Typhoon’s motions were much more graceful than her own. In a fight she was quite uncoordinated. Maybe she would talk to both Spotlight and Typhoon about some lessons. They could be extremely useful, but she didn’t know how to repay them for their time and possibly immeasurable patience. "Thank you. Um, this may be impossible to do at the moment but..." She also had a problem with asking for help, which was especially difficult when she didn't know what she could provide in return. "Could both of you provide me with some lessons for fighting?"

Typhoon's movements slowed at the question and he glanced hurriedly over his shoulder, taken aback by the request. "It's, um, it's possible, but I thought we were refueling," he remarked cautiously, putting the autopilot back online and leaning his hip against the console. "Did you want to do that instead?" He hoped not, mostly due to his lack of recharge but also due to Spotlight's small frown which morphed into a smirk.

"It is a good idea, Typhoon," he announced, optics glittering with mischief. "I've heard you're impressive, that you've proven yourself in battle."

Where had he heard that? Typhoon watched questioningly as Spotlight's gaze shifted to Baseline, expectant and smug. Was he trying to accomplish something Typhoon didn't know about?

"Hm, it probably wouldn't be optimal considering the space." She squinted at Spotlight. "I’m confused as to why you are smirking, though I’m not the best at gauging social nuances." She tried to figure out what she had missed. Was he amused at something that she did or Typhoon did?

Spotlight didn't think she recognized that he was quoting her and Typhoon didn't even know she had said that, so he let their confusion slide and shrugged. "Yeah, you're right, it is a bit close quarters in here. So…drinks? I'm gonna check on Freezeframe—I know you just did, Baseline, but I like to check on things myself—and then I'll check on our course." At Typhoon's edgy look, he protested, "I was stuffed in a cramped little pod with nothing else to do but watch my brother fly the thing. I know how to do it! But hey, maybe he'll be awake to remind me of all the specifics."

So saying, he slipped back down the hall out of sight, wondering how Freezeframe would react if he tried to start a conversation like nothing had happened.


End file.
